Fit For A King
by quaddles
Summary: Really, Barry Allen hadn't even wanted to go see Joe's brother-in-law. From now on, he was picking the vacations.
1. welcome to elmerton

_um, so, i'm going to begin this with i'm sorry. if you're new to this story, please ignore this author's note ! this goes out to all the viewers who read my story_ before _i deleted all ... what was it, seven chapters? and i'm sorry for the three month unannounced hiatus, too. let me explain._

 _it was a day like any other. i had just gotten done writing over twenty thousand words for dannymay that week when i came across the next day's theme and, my brain being fried, couldn't figure out how to write it. and then, as i started becoming immune to my anxiety medicine, i began to doubt my ability to write at all. several times i read through the first chapter of this story and couldn't bear to finish; i was so utterly horrified at even the smallest typos. several times i considered deleting the story entirely and never touching it again. then i was prescribed two new medicines and had an entire summer of babysitting and lounging about that allowed my brain time to assess the situation. even three months couldn't lesson my hatred for the story. so, i decided to rewrite it! bigger and better. longer and more detailed._

 _again, i'm sorry for all of you that wish to continue reading but don't want to read through plot points you've already seen. the whole meeting is going to be placed in a different scene entirely and everything is much more sculpted than before, so hopefully you'll come to enjoy this version even more than the last. feel free to berate me in the reviews._

 _well, enough of my constant chatter. on with the new and improved ffak !_

* * *

 **fit for a king**

chapter one

 _welcome to elmerton_

* * *

Barry Allen was tired.

He'd spent the better half of the night on patrol, crisscrossing throughout an endless maze of streets in search for lowly criminals that dare test the waters in Central City, a place that was most certainly _his._ He felt the same sort of protectiveness over the place as one would over their newborn baby, and so he'd went into a tizzy upon Joe West's order to pack up a suitcase and head to Illinois with him and Iris on a vacation that was more stressful than relaxing.

Therefore, when it became entirely evident that Joe was unquestionably _not_ going to let him weasel his way out of this less-than-ideal situation, he'd done what any other city-renowned superhero would do: he worked himself to the point of absolute exhaustion. Maybe, just _maybe,_ the criminals that promenaded along _his_ streets would let up while he was gone if he took them all down the week before he left.

It made sense in his head, at least.

He'd spent the preponderance of his last few days with his vulnerable _child_ running numbers through his head. If he went Mach 2.5, he'd be able to make it to Central City in approximately nine minutes and twelve seconds. It was irrefutable that he could go faster if he had the proper motivation (aka something horrible went wrong and it was of dire importance that he be there _immediately_ ), but Cisco Ramon and Caitlyn Snow had promised that it wouldn't come to that.

Their promise gave Barry little comfort. It wasn't that he didn't trust them with his life (and he did on practically a day-to-day basis), it was just that it's scientifically impossible to promise a future that is out of your control. And, unless Cisco or Caitlyn suddenly gained the ability to travel in time and stop certain events from happening, it was most definitely out of their control and therefore an easily breakable promise.

Then there was the matter of the Central City Police Department, or CCPD. He trusted them, too, but the line between human and mutated-something-or-other was very, very thick. Put simply, Barry was more capable than them, and that wasn't him being arrogant or big-headed; that was him accepting that he could run so fast that he could break through the barrier of time. Did the police force have that? No, no they did not. Not without him.

Despite his constant complaining, whining, and begging, his surrogate father absolutely refused to let him stay, making yet another entirely meaningless promise that Cisco, Caitlyn, and the entirety of the CCPD would be able to handle it while he spent some, quote, _much needed time with family_ , unquote.

And so he sat in the passenger seat of a black Honda Accord, leg bouncing and eyes staring out at the _Now Leaving Central City_ sign with a ferocity that almost seemed to be able to burn a hole straight through it. He would be having a heated conversation with Joe if not for the exhaustion tugging at his eyelids and the soreness of his throat from having so much air forced down it the night before, but, as it was, he couldn't seem to muster up the energy to do anything but glare angrily at the passing scenery and listen to the old jazz station Joe had put on the radio.

Despite his best efforts, Barry was losing the battle against sleep. He could feel it in his irregularly slowing leg and gravity-weighted eyes. It wasn't long before he was losing passages of time; mind blanking on everything but the soothing saxophone and Joe's gentle humming. No. He couldn't sleep. There was much to think about, to calculate, and to plan. Barry most definitely did _not_ have time for sleep.

But the gentle rumble of the car was nice and the leather seats suddenly felt significantly comfier than they had when he'd first sat down. Barry's head fell only to shoot back up, his shoulders relaxed and tensed once more, and his leg hopped once before ceasing movement for several seconds, each moment longer than the last.

He'd fought a maniac who thought he was God, a childhood bully with a body made of steel, and a really dedicated dude who had no powers but was _somehow_ able to get his hands on a freeze ray. Yet, in the end, he couldn't win against his body's undeniable need for rest.

And so it was there sitting next to Joe in a black Honda Accord that Barry promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Danny Fenton was tired.

It was no surprise, seeing as he he'd been battling constant exhaustion since autumn of his freshman year. Two years had passed and he'd become no better at getting the rest that his body so desperately needed. He'd have to add "rest" right below "eat," "save the town from angry ghosts" and "take a shower" on his To-Do List.

He doubted he'd get to it. He hadn't even gotten to take a shower in five days and instead settled for a lot of Jazz's dry shampoo and a thorough lathering of deodorant.

Danny's poor self-care was the least of his worries, though. He had school, homework, and the giant, drippy, vaguely centipede-y ghost that he was currently in pursuit of to think about. He was also preoccupied with saving a mother and her screeching child from aforementioned centipede ghost. And gosh, the science project Ms. Tanya was talking about before he rushed out of the classroom with the bathroom pass. That too. _When did I get so much stuff piled on my plate?_

Danny focused on the scene ahead of him. The woman, clearly struggling in her floor-length dress, slid into an alleyway and came to a halt when she saw that the exit she was so desperately praying for was nowhere to be found. Rather, this alley ended in an aged brick wall and a rusty, unused dumpster. She turned on her heel and was met with the bus-sized face of her stalker and the horrible clicking of hundreds of needlepoint legs fighting to squeeze into a too tight spot.

She whirled around, toddler pounding on her shoulders and clinging to her shirt, and crouched beside the dumpster in visible distress and desperation.

It was then that Danny sped forward, landed lightly on the ground, and stared the creature down through strands of his overgrown, pearly white hair. He considered asking his mother to cut it that afternoon and instead settled on asking Sam. Maddie would be all too happy to take him up on that offer and he'd rather avoid the following queries of how his grades were and what he's been up to lately.

Oh, yeah. The centipede. It had approached quickly during his contemplations and was now right in front of him, giant blade-like pincers snapping desperately at his face.

He hopped backwards, swore under his breath at his own carelessness, and aimed at his target with one gloved hand. Ectoplasm became visible in vein-like lines underneath his jumpsuit and pooled at a microscopic cut at the center of his hand. It projected outwards and cut through one of the pincers, which fell in a glop at the centipede's foot before collecting into its previous shape and reattaching itself to the ghost's face.

The centipede came closer and Danny was quite suddenly aware of the heavy sobs coming from directly behind him. Time was up. He couldn't play around anymore.

A plan formulated quickly in his head. Ectoplasm traveled down his arm once more and assembled itself into the solid shape of a glowing green blade. He jumped, pushed himself upward through flight, and allowed gravity to take hold once directly above the centipede's head.

The blade, now longer than Danny, sliced through the ghost's body with a loud, resounding _crunch_ that was similar to stepping on a big beetle. The head slammed into the concrete whilst the body sprayed pressured ectoplasm all over the back wall, the dumpster, and the screaming woman and child.

As the bleeding slowed, the head began to slowly gravitate towards the body similar to how the pincer did after reassembling. Danny wiped the centipede's ectoplasm from his eyes, let the blade seep back into his hand and travel up his arm in its liquefied state, and pulled the Fenton Thermos from his belt before the ghost could once again get its bearings (and its head).

Rays of blue and white encased the centipede; with a final screech, it and the surrounding ectoplasm disappeared into the canister. Danny capped the thermos quickly and spun on his heel to face the mother and son, who were still covered from head to toe in ectoplasm. Everything that hadn't been in front of the thermos, including him, hadn't been cleansed of the centipede's blood and remained dripping wet.

The mother's eyes were wide. He could hear her and her son's mismatched, fast heartbeats.

The toddler broke free from his mother's grip and ran past Danny, slipping and sliding on ectoplasm puddles as he went. His screams could be heard echoing throughout the alleyway even as he turned the corner. His mother, who was short of one shoe and breathing laboriously, chased after. She and her bobbing magenta hijab disappeared from sight.

Danny threw his hands in the air exasperatedly. "A thank you would suffice," he breathed, and as his arms fell drops of ectoplasm spilt from his body and onto the pavement. "Have fun getting that ectoplasm off your clothes. Only thing that works is the Fenton Stain Remover, I'll have you know."

He wasn't sure who he was talking to; she was already long gone. Not even Danny's superhuman hearing could pick up the pitter patter of her footsteps. He supposed that talking to himself was all that kept him grounded after defending ungrateful citizens.

After his breathing returned to a generally normal pace, he turned and registered the mess his fiasco with School Bus Bug had resulted in. Danny uncapped the thermos and clicked the button on the side.

Eerie alleyway silence met his expectant ears.

He clicked the button again. And again. Finally, after a tiny unsatisfactory _whir,_ the black screen on the side beeped and helpfully informed him that the thermos was **FULL.** He should've known that a giant man-eating bug would take up most of the storage space. Even so, he found himself huffing angrily.

A droplet of ectoplasm fell from a strand of mottled hair into his left eye. "Ow! God, ow, that burns. Today is not your day, Fenton." He tried rubbing it out first, and when that proved to only make it worse, he used his brain and realized that someone who could turn _freaking intangible_ could just use that ability to get the ectoplasm out of his eye and, by default, off of his entire body.

So he did, and the ectoplasm sloshed to the ground with a disgusting squelch noise that, even in his two years of being a ghost, he hadn't gotten used to. The smell still lingered though – kind of like old pennies and the school swimming pool – and, all things considered, he thought that this was probably an upgrade from his previous dry shampoo/deodorant thing he had going on.

And that was all the time he had. Somewhere, distantly, the Casper High school bell was ringing and signaling the end of a generally normal day. If he didn't bring the Hall Pass back to Ms. Tanya immediately, he'd surely be in more trouble than he was already in for missing a good twenty minutes of class time. He'd come back with an empty thermos and clean it up sometime in between dinner and patrol.

Danny switched into what he had called "astronaut mode" and now called "floating" due to Sam and Tucker's constant complaints. After two years of late night ponderings and borrowing documents from his parent's lab (which he read in the light of his own ghostly glow in an oak tree within Amity's park perimeters), Danny had come up with a decent understanding of how his own body worked. When the chemical reaction of his original form to ghost form occurs, aka his "going ghost," his blood cells are overtaken by ectoplasm, which, at its lowest state, is entirely unaffected by gravity and therefore results in his floating. Originally, when he'd first figured out how to toggle his ectoplasm's resistance to gravity (beforehand, he could only float in his ghost form) he'd called it his "astronaut mode" as a nod to his undying love of space. Sam and Tucker had quickly gotten tired of the name and urged him to settle on something a bit simpler.

Flying hadn't taken nearly as long to understand and control. It was simple, really: all he had to do was release energetic particles in the opposite way of his trajectory. Well, when he said it like that, it didn't sound very _simple,_ but it became easier, like riding a bike or … well, riding a bike pretty much covered it.

And so, with the science of his own ghostly body taking up the forefront of his mind, he flew up and over Elmerton's buildings and towards Amity's shinier, cleaner ones. One short journey to the school roof later, he went intangible (something he was _still_ trying to fully understand) and flew right through the bathroom ceiling. Danny listened for any heartbeats in the close vicinity of the door and, when he was certain that no one would be privy to his transformation, he let the chemical reaction that was his ghost half backtrack and be reabsorbed into the Ghost Zone. There. Human. And, if he didn't get the Hall Pass that he'd hidden behind a urinal back to Ms. Tanya: Dead. He opened the bathroom door and headed in the direction of the Biology classroom at a brisk pace.

* * *

Barry awoke to the smell of cigarettes and the honking of a horn. Around him, unkempt buildings and shabby houses sat amongst overgrown grass and cracked sidewalk. The place looked deserted; other than the rusty truck behind Iris that was so readily hitting the horn (despite them being at a red light) there was nobody around. Iris' car, in turn, was behind Joe's car, where Barry sat in the passenger seat (seeing as he lacked in the "having a car" department) and tried to drown out the constant honking by turning up the radio. Joe, upon seeing that he had awoken, began to ramble about his brother-in-law and niece. Barry took to staring out the window and studying the area rather than properly listening.

They must've been in the bad side of town, where criminals and other evil-doers alike live amongst genuinely nice people who just so happen to be struggling with finances. Barry pondered over why Joe would take this specific route to get to the Gray's house. They seemed to be doing a lot of twisting and turning throughout the ruined streets; why didn't they just go straight into the suburbs?

Unless…

 _"You have reached your final destination."_

They pulled into a crumbled, trash-strewn parking lot, where only one beat-up, paint-chipped, dented car sat. Joe had gone silent. The radio transitioned into complete static.

This couldn't be it. This _could not_ be their apartment building. Barry remembered stopping at their house when he was young and gawking at the high ceilings, polished floors, and huge balcony. This, however, was the opposite.

In front of them sat a tall, dilapidated brick building that looked as though it would topple over at any given time. The remnants of poorly scrubbed-off spray paint decorated the broken, weathered bricks like confetti. A rusty hole-ridden sign announcing the _No Smoking_ rule was leaning against the building and was surrounded by dozens of mocking cigarette butts, one of which was still smoldering a bit.

Joe put the car in park whilst Iris pulled into the parking space next to them. She came to a stop and rolled down the window, gesturing wildly for Barry to do the same.

Joe pulled the key from the ignition before he could comply, so instead he opened the car door as to aid her. Everything was momentarily silent save for Iris' humming engine.

"What are we doing here?" Iris queried, staring down her father.

"We're going to see my family," replied Joe in an easy, though transparently fake, voice. His hands shook a bit as he reached over to open the car door and step outside.

"You're joking." When Joe didn't respond, she sent Barry a horror-struck look. "You're not joking."

"I told you that they were having financial issues, sweetheart." The trunk clicked as he opened it and rummaged about, setting suitcases and pillows aside.

Iris stepped out of her car but left it running, still hoping desperately that this was some kind of sick joke brought about by both her and Barry's complaining preceding the trip. "You never said that they'd lost their house! This is… I mean…" She trailed off, visibly at a loss for words.

"I told you yesterday." Joe had found his bag and he'd slung it over his shoulder, hardly glancing at his daughter.

"Dad, you _know_ Barry and I stopped listening to your 'trip' rants as soon as they started getting repetitive. A bit of a better warning would have been nice."

Joe hummed, pulled his companion's bags, blankets, and pillows out of the trunk, and slammed the door closed. A loud beeping noise momentarily echoed throughout the empty parking lot before he turned on his heel and headed testily for the double doors, sidestepping over odd stains and cracked pavement along the way.

Iris huffed in a frustrated manor and went to turn off her car, checking to make sure that it was locked multiple times before heading towards the dropped bags. Barry proceeded to sit in Joe's car, running things over in his sleep-hazed mind.

It was difficult to think about.

Damen Gray, the leading tech expert in Axion's R&D Division, had lost his job. Barry was sure of that. He faintly remembered Joe mentioning it at dinner one time, though it was a simple sentence in the sea of words that had came out of Joe's mouth in the past week. This led to the Gray duo losing their home, That is, if Valerie was still in the picture, which was dependent on if Damen got fired recently or earlier in Valerie's childhood. If she was still young when he'd lost his job, Valerie would most likely be put into a foster home. If not, well, she'd be coming home to a beat up apartment building in…where were they? He formerly believed that they were still in Amity, but perhaps they were in one of the neighboring towns instead. It would make sense, seeing as Amity was a fairly large city that was booming with tourism and would most likely cost more to reside in. He had been asleep when they'd pass the town sign, surely.

Barry did, however, know what street they were on, as announced by the faded, lopsided sign sitting on the corner of the parking lot.

Alright, so here were the facts: Damon Gray had lost his job and now lived on Elm Street in a cheap apartment building. It wasn't much to go by. Maybe if he—

Iris knocked on the car door and Barry jumped in surprise, letting out a noise that was most unmanly.

"You coming or are you going to just sit in the car for a week?"

Barry sighed. He'd gotten lost in his head again, as had been happening quite often lately. He pushed the car door fully open and stepped outside, where the stench of cigarette smoke mingled with the warm breeze and tainted his lungs.

Iris dropped Barry's bag into his arms without warning, and he buckled a bit under the weight.

"Maybe it's not so bad inside," Iris said, wringing her hands and waiting for Barry to confirm something he hadn't the slightest idea about.

He straightened and studied her with a quirked eyebrow. "I think _you're_ the one that wants to sit in the car for a week.

Iris nudged him with her shoulder playfully, though a smile failed to show itself on her lips. "Shut up."

Barry grinned. He was worried, too, but he had to put on a show for Iris' sake. It was one of the many things he'd begun to learn since being struck by lightning. He had also learned, after rigorous training with Cisco that consisted of him being electrocuted a bit if he couldn't trick the lie detector into thinking he was telling the truth, how to good and properly lie.

And so it was there, standing in that beat up parking lot, that Barry pushed down his own fears and worries and urged Iris towards the doors, where Joe was getting things worked out with the receptionist.

It was going to be a long week.


	2. old friends, new friends

_hello my beautiful readers! now, before you even say anything, let me explain! sophomore year of highschool has started since i've last seen you all and its proven to be much more exhausting than anticipated. between play practices, early show choir practices, supporting volleyball games, the upcoming haunted house to raise funds for speech, walking door to door to gain money for a show choir group trip, and homework i've been ... busy. nonetheless, i had this chapter done a startling two weeks ago. why, you may ask, did it take me so long to update? Ah, well, the laptop I write and publish on is the very definition of ancient. it was released in 2007 which, whether you believe it or not, was ten years ago. anyway, two weeks ago i typed in the website address and, wouldn't you know it? it failed to load. so i tried the next day. and the next day. and the next day. i couldn't do anything involving the internet except look up the definition of certain words. today, for the fourteenth or fifteenth time, i tried to type in the web address again. hoorah, it works! i can't say for certain how long this will last, though, so a fair warning. i'm planning on getting a new laptop later this year, though!_

 _that was an awfully long author's note and one that most of you are probably not interested in. long story short, thank you for sticking by me and my late updates and my reboot and just everything. i'm hard to handle, that's for sure. i love you all and please enjoy the new edition!_

* * *

 **fit for a king**

chapter two

 _old friends, new friends_

* * *

"I'm partnered with _who?_ "

Ms. Tanya sighed deeply, her startlingly green eyes glancing upwards through thick eyelashes. She reached for the corner of her desk, where a small stack of neatly stapled papers sat amongst a mechanical pencil sharpener, a collection of extra #2 pencils, and a metal stapler. "Here's the paper detailing you and Valerie's assignment. I suggest that you read through all of it, seeing as you felt the need to have a twenty minute bathroom break and she neglected to show up at all."

Danny had his hands propped against her desk and was leaning on them as to lessen the pressure on his sore ankle. He hadn't really noticed it in the heat of battle, but it now felt worse than it had when he'd sprained it whilst stopping a collection of small birds with the same ectosignature; they could connect into a singular seven foot tall hummingbird when given the proper motivation. Yes, Danny had laughed too, but the bird-brain jokes quickly ceased when it became evident just how _fast_ these things could fly. Therefore, he'd quickly taken the fight to the ground, where he'd clumsily stumbled and badly injured his ankle. It had probably been in the process of healing when he'd stopped the ghost bug, which consequently reverted the healing process and started him smack dab at the beginning. What was with all the "tiny animals gone big" lately?

Ms. Tanya cleared her throat and waved the stapled papers in the air. It was evident that he'd gotten lost in his thoughts once more. Maybe Jazz was right: maybe he _should_ get tested for ADD.

Rather than taking the papers, Danny took to leaning back onto one of his heels and using the other foot for balance. He ran pale hands through dark hair and interlaced his fingers at the nape of his neck.

"Well?" said an impatient Ms. Tanya.

"No disrespect, Miss, but Valerie and I—we can't work together."

"And why's that?"

"Well, uh, she kinda dumped me last year and has been avoiding me ever since."

"It's high time the two of you made up, then."

"I'm sorry, Miss, but Tucker and Sam would throw a _fit_ if they found out that I was working with Valerie."

"Do you always let your friends tell you what to do and who to hang out with?"

"Uh, no, Miss Tanya, they—"

"That's awfully mean, Danny. You and your friends shouldn't exclude someone for no reason."

"It's not exactly for no reason, Miss. She sort of bullied us until the eighth grade."

"Ah, the grudges again. Well, seeing as that's no longer happening, I see no reason why you and Valerie shouldn't partner."

"Miss—"

"That's enough, Danny. I have other things to worry about besides you and Valerie's relationship. Please take your paper and go home."

"But—"

" _Home,_ Danny."

He exhaled loudly through his nose, unlaced his fingers, and took the paper from Ms. Tanya's outstretched hand.

"I'll see you Monday," she said, dismissing him with a small nod and a twirl of her red pen.

"See you Monday."

Danny left the classroom with the slightest of limps, thinking about The Red Huntress and the Biology assignment he had clasped in his hands. He glanced down as he walked; skimming over the beginning as to get a basic understanding of what he was up against.

 **BIOLOGICAL SCIENCE**

 **LESSON: ANATOMY**

 **PROJECT:** _You and a partner of your choosing will select the anatomy of a specific creature to research and study in depth. A three page essay in MLA7 formatting is necessary, as is a slideshow to present to your fellow students._

 **DUE DATE:** _Monday, October 20_ _th_

Alright, so if today was the eighth and it was due on the twentieth, that would give the two of them, uh, _seven eight nine,_ twelve days.

Twelve days? _Twelve days?_ How were they supposed to get this done in _twelve days?_ Between Valerie's job and her hunting, along with Danny's constant watch over the entirety of the city, they were _doomed._

He unzipped his backpack a little and shoved the paper inside, where it crumpled against other haphazardly folded papers. Without really paying much attention, he pushed open the entrance doors and took the steps two at a time, bag reawakening old pains in his spine.

Danny despised group projects for this exact reason. Usually he could turn in the assignment a week late and just take the missing assignment grade and late deduction, but when he was grouped with other people he felt obliged to get everything in on time for their sake. He couldn't, _wouldn't_ knock someone's grade down because of his own horrible time management, even if that someone was Valerie. But his phone had been corrupted by Technus last week and his parents were still in the process of making him a new one, so talking to her by way of cell was already out of the question.

Gosh, but Elmerton was so far away from Casper High …

Danny listened for heartbeats and was satisfied when he could only faintly hear the teacher's inside the school and the football team's rapid ones on the field. Even so, he hid behind a bush when he transformed and took to the sky invisibly. No sense in a secret identity if the whole town knew.

And so, with backpack straps around his shoulders and wind cooling the strangely warm October air, Danny set off for 461 Elm Street, Elmerton.

* * *

 _Ding._

The rickety elevator doors squeaked open, revealing a long, gray carpeted corridor at which Barry stared concernedly at. A vacuum could be heard faintly from room 457 whilst an angry woman shouted obscenities next door at something unknown (perhaps the vacuum?). He, along with his fellow companions, instantaneously got the impression that sleep would be sparse in such a loud, thin-walled place.

Joe took a hesitant step forward and out of the elevator, which Barry was certain he'd never step foot in again. The old thing hummed and shook as though it were attempting to free itself from the wires holding it up. Someone was most definitely going to get hurt in it one day, that is if that day hadn't already come and gone.

Barry exhaled loudly through his nose, taking a moment to internally chastise himself for the constant barrage of negative thoughts that made his head spin and his emotions drop (visually, Barry could see the elevator, which was metaphorically his emotions, falling floors down and crashing against the floor so momentously that the entire building, or his entire self, collapsed in on itself in a depressive slump). He needed to stop such a mindset before his anxiety skyrocketed and he impulsively shot out the creaky double doors of aforementioned building and ended up in Maine or some other far away godforsaken state. What else was there to think about, though? He faintly recalled Joe going on tangents about time with family, and he supposed that was a fairly positive concept. He'd get to see Damon and Valerie (hopefully) for the first time in forever and he'd be free to spend more time with Joe and Iris, who he knew needed time away from work just as much as he did.

Going off of that, Barry continued the figurative spring cleaning that was going on in his mind as the three of them walked tentatively down the bland corridor. He'd be able to traverse and experience a new city, educate himself on new ideas and concepts, and perhaps even make a new friend or two. Yes, he could go on a jog about Amity to experience such sights later tonight. There had to be something tourists and other sightseers did around here.

Joe rapped thrice on the door of Apartment 461, where the crude elderly receptionist downstairs so helpfully told them they'd find the Grays. Someone, presumably Damon, could be heard startling from inside. "Just a minute!" he called hastily, and footsteps heard from creaky flooring padded towards the entrance door. A few seconds later a slide lock scraped against metal and the door swung open to reveal a dark-skinned man that was only an inch or so shorter than Barry. He was wearing a dull gray t-shirt and blue jeans with a bit of a rip in the left knee paired with plain white socks you'd find on clearance in a Walmart aisle and undereye bags that painted a bit of purple atop brown skin. Nevertheless, his blindingly white smile shone from underneath a bushy black mustache and seemed to light up everything around him, from the crinkles around his eyes to the worn-down shirt that had only moments before looked as though it would fall apart at the seams. His gray-blue eyes twinkled with joyful tears as he looked Iris over; he hadn't seen her since she was but a child.

Damon fumbled for words. "Iris, I, wow, look at you! You're so beautiful!"

Iris laughed and leaned in for an embrace. She buried her face in his chest and took in an all-too-familiar scent; memories of falling asleep in a warm sunlit living room next to Auntie Gray and a newborn Valerie flooded her brain with dopamine and a sense of calm tranquility. When they departed, she had to wipe a stray tear away with the sleeve of her sweater.

Damon turned his attention to his brother, who wrapped him in a hug tighter than ever before (Exhibit A of why Barry insisted Joe had attachment issues). Seeing them next to each other like that, it was no surprise they were brothers: same umber-toned skin, same textured hair, and same long nose.

Sometime during his considerings, Damon and Joe had withdrawn and now, suddenly, all attention was on Barry. His mind, constantly working to fill every gap, took this moment to remember just how out of place he had always felt when visiting the Gray family. It wasn't because of a lack of affection (because, certainly, Damon had welcomed him into his home as though he really _were_ his biological nephew), but rather a disconcerting feeling of belonging elsewhere. During those first years Barry had always felt distant from the others. There was a sense of wrongness he felt when he was welcomed with open arms into a family that wasn't his. _His_ family was gone, torn apart from each other by injustice and something that had been fantasy until not long ago. At least, that's how he'd felt when he'd first arrived. So why was he beginning to feel that way now?

Perhaps it was just old memories resurfacing, fueled by the negative thoughts that he'd had when first stepping out of the elevator. Maybe it was the knowledge that he'd never known the reputable Auntie Gray and therefore could not fully share in this family's ups and downs. Or maybe, just _maybe,_ it was because there was something unfinished here, something that Barry had to do before everything felt right.

But that was nonsense. It was merely a tangent of thoughts brought about by stress and hanging out too much with Cisco. There was no truth to those statements, no concrete evidence that made those claims conclusive or–

Barry was enveloped in a hug, too warm and too comforting to allow his brain to continue with such affirmations. He sunk into it, noting that the man still smelt a bit like old books and mildew (a thought that hopped upon him as unexpectedly as the embrace).

And then it was over as soon as it had started, leaving Barry yearning for warmth in such a cold, clammy hallway.

"Oh! What am I doing? Come in, please, come in," insisted Damon, hands finding refuge in the pockets of his jeans. "Iris, you'll be sleeping in Valerie's room; it's the farthest one down the hall. You remember Valerie, right? And Joe, you'll be sleeping with Barry in my bedroom, which is the door on the left." He paused in his recitations and glanced over at them in an almost timid manner, as though he were asking for their very acceptance. "That is, if it's alright with you?"

Joe's response didn't lag: "Where are you going to sleep?"

Damon waved that aside as if the question was a pesky fly. "I'll sleep in the rocking chair; I usually find myself falling asleep there anyway. We probably have different sleep schedules, too."

"Are you sure? I could take the couch," said Joe, expression one of selfless concern.

"Nonsense! You're my guest; take the bed, I insist. Iris, there's an air mattress on Valerie's floor with cleaned sheets. I'm sorry about the mess in advance; I've told her time and time again to clean it and she just doesn't listen."

Barry noted that Iris looked a bit uncomfortable with the proposition but smiled nonetheless. Since they were children, Iris had had trouble sleeping (especially on anything other than a bed, like the floor or, per se, an air mattress). She'd been diagnosed with insomnia during her freshman year and, despite taking nightly medication to combat it, she still had trouble sleeping outside of her own bedroom. It was this that prompted Barry to open his mouth for the first time since they'd stepped inside the apartment complex. "I can take the air mattress."

"Oh no, Barry, you don't have to do that for me," insisted Iris, though her eyes told otherwise. They'd lived with each other since they were young; there was nothing about Iris that slipped past him.

Barry turned to Damon and grinned politely, ignoring the way Iris' mouth opened as if to cause an argument. "Would it be alright if we switched?"

"Yeah, of course," Damon said. "As long as you can handle the mess."

"Trust me, he can," Joe joked as he set his bags by the door to be dealt with later. "You've never seen his workspace. I genuinely don't know how he finds anything in there."

"Hey," said Iris as she set down her rolling suitcase and pulled open the handle. "We should start unpacking." She headed in the direction of the hallway, where bland walls met three dirty white doors (one on the left and two on the right). The duo headed to the left door first, which was the door that Damon had said was his own. Barry made a dry quip of "What's behind door number one?" which received no more than a humorous scoff from Iris and a light, "You're an idiot," before she turned the knob and opened the door to a clean, wooden-floored room with a single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and a large wooden desk covered with mechanical tools and devices that were obviously being fiddled with during Damon's limited downtime. Iris hit the lightswitch and the room was instantly basked in yellow (the lack of windows and the dark-toned gray wall made the room feel very small and very enclosed). White covers and white pillows lay atop a king-sized bed and the closet (a narrow white door that was surely as small on the inside as it looked from the outside) was placed in the far corner, the same wall that the cluttered albeit organized desk sat. On the opposite wall, where the entrance door was, a tall, antique dresser that looked as though it had been dismantled by the clumsy paws of a rabid dog and nailed back together with the steady hands of a trained technician (i.e Damon Gray) lay flat against the wall. The aforementioned bed was adjacent to the dresser wall and the closet wall and, lay by the foot of it, was a fuzzy baby blue rug that seemed to have gotten the same treatment as the dresser. The room was boxy and, for the most part, colorless, but Barry assumed that they were doing the best with what they had and did not offer any criticism (though he'd be perfectly free to, seeing as Damon would not be privy to the conversation).

Iris shivered a bit; despite the warm fall air outside the entire apartment building somehow managed to be _many_ degrees below comfortable.

"You can have my extra blanket if you want," said Barry, leaning against the wall and putting his hands in his pockets. Due to an accelerated, well, _everything,_ he usually stayed rather warm and found that he didn't need as many blankets in colder temperatures as the average person did. Despite this, he recognized the coolness of the air temperature and felt deeply rooted concern when thinking of Iris attempting to sleep. _Thank goodness I offered to take Valerie's room,_ thought Barry. _Hers probably has a window._

"You should stop giving all your stuff to me," Iris said, setting down her duffle and unzipping the top. She pulled out two perfectly folded fuzzy throw blankets and placed them atop the bed, where the warm tones contrasted with the white covers. "I can handle myself alright."

Barry startled. "I didn't mean to–"

"I know." she grinned, glancing up at him through thick, mascara-submerged eyelashes. "I get that you're just trying to help, but you need to stop putting other people's needs before your own all the time. You need that blanket just as much as I would and I'd bet you anything that you'd sleep way better on this bed than on a twin air mattress in some teenage girl's bedroom."

Barry frowned. He wasn't sure how being selfless was wrong. "I just want you to be comfortable."

"Mhm." Iris slid her suitcase and the empty duffle underneath the bed to be dealt with later. Then, as if reading Barry's mind: "Look, I'm not saying that being selfless is a bad thing, I'm just saying that there's a certain point where it's too much. I don't want you freezing in your room any more than I want to freeze in my room."

Barry said nothing. He was still a bit confused.

Iris sighed and slipped past him, her hair brushing against his bicep. "Let's go check out Valerie's room."

He followed obediently, mind still trying to wrap around the concept of being too selfless.

He'd always been taught, since the moment he could walk, how to share and care and love with everything that he did. While that advice sometimes slipped from his mind in times of anger, Barry could honestly say that he did his best every day to be what his father and mother were and had been. Hearing that he was "too selfless" from someone whom he'd considered an advocate for selflessness was a bit befuddling (though mostly because Barry's brain was, at the same time, trying to examine and decipher in great deal the Gray family and their apartment). Perhaps one would be "too selfless" if they offered up everything they had to someone else and neglected taking care of their own physical and mental needs. But a comfy bed and an extra blanket was most certainly _not_ something he needed!

Then again, maybe Iris was just worried that he'd go off and hurt himself in the act of being selfless. There was a terrifying millisecond in which the thought _"she knows"_ crossed Barry's mind, but it was over in a flash. There was no way; Iris was quite the open book and Barry considered it nearly impossible for her to keep such a huge secret to herself. Iris was always the one that would snitch on him when they were children and he'd do something that he wasn't supposed to, not the other way around.

Iris opened the far door only for the door to resist; there was a pile of things on the opposite side that had not been moved over. She pushed harder and the stack of things, now shown to be large books over various supernatural entities, toppled over and crashed into something else haphazardly thrown onto the floor.

Damon hadn't been lying: Valerie's room was a _mess._

Clothes had been thrown everywhere _but_ the hamper. Her twin bed was pressed against the far left corner of the room and a nightstand littered with empty energy cans and granola bar wrappers sat beside it. Two white fold-up tables, pressed together and beside a large dresser with drawers half-open, were littered with large cardboard boxes, makeup, ponytails, nail polish, and large pieces of tech. Sneakers, tennis shoes, flip flops and boots alike looked as though they'd been thrown against the far wall, where ripped children's foam floor tiles lay below a metal pull-up bar that had been nailed into the wall. A single window was also on this side, lacking curtains and allowing sunlight to permeate the room. Barry's twin air mattress was at the foot of Valerie's bed, where clothes and books and blank sheets of college-ruled paper had been pushed aside to make room for it. Newspaper clippings were taped lopsidedly all over the walls, especially above a half-broken dusty bookshelf filled with jars of various green substances, two jewelry boxes, and a single framed picture of her smooshed between Damon and a woman with long curly hair and chocolate-brown eyes.

Iris gaped. "This is worse than your office, Barry."

"Thanks," he muttered, staring out the window at the gray sky and the fire escape. Sighing, he headed toward his air mattress and cleared a small area to set down his bags.

Iris crouched and began picking up clothes and tossing them into the hamper.

"Iris, you don't have to–"

"Shut up," she muttered, crawling on her hands and knees. She pulled a strand of curly brown hair off of a yellow sweater and tossed it behind her and into the hamper.

"Valerie probably doesn't want us cleaning her room," he warned, fingers tapping restlessly on his pant leg.

Ignoring him, she grabbed ahold of a small, metal rectangle and startled when it folded open with a metallic whine and took the shape of a handheld gun. "What is this?" she stuttered, shaking it in front of Barry's face. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Looks like she has a bunch," he observed concernedly, sidestepping past objects and stopping beside one of the tables. Despite his warnings to Iris not to touch any of the girl's things, he curiously picked up a heavy, medium-sized red and black device that whined upon contact.

"What would she need guns for?!"

The window slid open so suddenly that the both of them visibly jumped. A girl, tall and curvy, was bent at the hips outside on the fire escape. Her fingers curled over the edge of the windowsill. "What the hell are you doing in my room?" Then, to Barry: "Hey, don't touch that! Are you _trying_ to kill someone?"

Barry slowly set the gun back down on the desk, where the lack of physical contact caused the gentle humming to cease.

So _this_ was Valerie. Sure, Barry remembered her from when they were young, but her appearance had _drastically_ changed since she was four years old. Long, curly brown hair swayed a bit in the outside breeze whilst russet-brown skin brought back memories of autumn leaves. Her eyes were a bright, clear green color that shone despite the darker room (Barry and Iris had neglected to turn on the light). Long curly eyelashes were accentuated by mascara and black winged eyeliner. She was wearing an oversized worn yellow t-shirt, and that (along with the yellow sweater that Iris had previously tossed aside) gave Barry the impression that she liked the color. It looked good on her.

Despite being only sixteen, she looked worn and older. A serious air enveloped her.

Then something bright green and moving much too fast for details took Valerie's feet out from under her.

With nothing but the echoes of a surprised screech tainting the air, Valerie Gray was gone just as quickly as she had arrived.


	3. revelations

_ah, another long wait due to me being the literal worst. who's surprised? not me!_

 _anyway, i'm not even going to bother you with excuses. instead, let's focus on something positive! since i've seen you last, i've successfully performed in front of an audience five times, seen two_ amazing _broadway musicals, attended cheerleading practice, hung out with good friends, and had fairly good grades for midterms! algebra 2 is still kicking my ass, though. i'll pretend, for the moment, that it isn't. anyway, enough with me! let's move instead to the story that i may or may not have proofreaded due to staying up too late last night and being overall too lazy to really care. whoops?_

 _shut up, taylor! i promise the next chapter will pick up significantly. these first bits are important to move the plot along nicely, though, so bear with me!_

* * *

 **fit for a king**

chapter three

 _revelations_

* * *

Barry's first thought was that she had fallen, so he rushed forward so quickly that if Iris had been paying him any attention he would have surely been found out. He jumped through the window and onto the fire escape without pause, glancing frantically over the structurally unsound railings at the ground below. At some point, Iris had screamed behind him. Her voice echoed down empty alleyways.

There was no mop of curly brown hair to be seen, nor was there a faded yellow shirt and a pair of sparkling green eyes. The parking lot below was void of anyone.

So where had Valerie gone? Furthermore, what _was_ that green blur? If Barry didn't go and help now there would certainly be consequences but where to go and what about–

Something rushed past and everything around him slowed as his eyes followed the passing figure. It was headed to the skies at a seventy degree angle.

Now, the fact that this thing was _flying_ should've been at the forefront of his mind. However, he was more awed at the details on its green, dripping face. Its mouth and eyes were nothing but empty black sockets that seemed torn at the edges. Its face in its entirety was skeletal and gaunter than gaunt, with prominent cheekbones and a jawline to match. Its skin, however, was loose and torn and flapped as it went. Green liquid with the consistency of blood gushed from its mouth and eyes and flew backwards as it passed.

Next, at a faster speed, came a masked red figure in a technological suit. This person wasn't flying but was instead balanced atop a surfboard of sorts. Black and red blurred even as the unnamed figure moved in slow motion.

And then everything rushed back into its regular speed. Barry's eyes travelled up and up until he caught sight of the nightmarish monster and the masked vigilante battling above, the former with balls of green that blasted from its hands (if they could even be called that) and the latter with what seemed to be weapons. From this distance, however, it was hard to tell much of what was going on or to pick out specific details. One thing he did know, however, was that Valerie was still missing.

This all happened _very_ fast, probably within twenty seconds or less. The door to Valerie's room was ripped open in response to Iris' scream by a Joe West and a Damon Gray, both of which looked as though they were involuntarily fighting to look more concerned than the other. Damon barked a quick, "What's wrong?" whilst Joe's eyes scanned the room for threats.

"Valerie fell!" screamed Iris, pointing frantically out at Barry. In one swift motion, she straightened and ran towards the open window.

"What?" Damon screeched, and both he and Joe scrambled one after the other past Iris and onto the fire escape.

"Where is she?" queried Joe, whose eyes traversed the parking lot and landed unsteadily on Barry.

He found himself at a loss for words, his mind still enraptured in the inaudible fight above even as he stared into the terrified eyes of a father and an uncle. Then, dumbly, he muttered, "There's a fight."

"What?"

Barry shook his head. Alright, this was no time for such behavior. The sight of that creature had certainly set his world on its head, but contemplations and confusion could be stashed in the recesses of his mind and revisited later. "Up there!" He stated, pointing up at the tangling blurs of colors. "There's two … things."

Ah, not one of his most descriptive moments. He had no idea what to call the person in the Power Rangers suit or what sort of name the horrific monstrosity above had been given (if it had been given any name at all).

Joe's eyebrows scrunched together, trying and failing to understand. Damon, however, looked quite suddenly worn. His eyes travelled up and then fell to the rusted floor of the fire escape as though his earlier vigor had been sucked from his body as soon as Barry had attempted to describe what was happening above. He looked downright crestfallen.

Then, after a few moments of silence, Damon sighed a huge rumbling sigh. "Let's head back inside," he said as though addressing a group at a family funeral.

Iris, whose head was poking out of the window, squeaked, "But Val–!"

"She's fine!" Damon barked, causing all of them to jump a bit. Barry could feel his heartbeat in his throat. He'd never _once,_ not even in his memories, heard Damon yell in such a way.

And so, with a bit of hesitance, Joe and Barry followed after Damon through the window and into the living room. Damon sat down hard in the rocking chair but didn't lean back; his foot tapped restlessly as he rubbed tired eyes with big hands. The family trio said nothing as they waited for him to collect his thoughts.

"Valerie, she–" he stopped, huffed, and started again without glancing up. "She's been spirited and independent since the day she learned to walk, just like her mother."

"Damon, where's Val?" asked Joe, who was beginning to become anxious.

"When I lost my job, she was so, so angry. She was mad at the company, mad at her friends, and mad at the world for putting her in that situation. I guess something changed. She started keeping stuff from me and sneaking off more than usual, but I didn't think much of it until I… found out."

"Damon, _where is Valerie_?"

And finally, heartbreakingly, Damon glanced up. Tears welled in his eyes. "She's out there, _every_ night, putting herself in danger. She's travelling from alley to alley challenging _monsters_ in that _stupid_ outfit and she almost died right in front of my eyes but she _still_ goes out there and she won't _listen_ to me! And it's all my fault. If I would've just been there for her more, but work and bills and–"

Joe gave up the fight to find where Valerie had disappeared to and instead cut Damon off with warming words of assurance and kindness that Barry paid no mind to. Rather, everything was blocked as though he'd stuck his head underneath water and was listening to their mutterings above.

 _"She's travelling from alley to alley challenging_ monsters _in that_ stupid _outfit."_

The creature and the vigilante from before, that was... ?

"Valerie!"

Barry jumped to attention, looking back from his position on the couch to see Valerie standing in the hallway. She seemed a bit out of breath but was otherwise entirely fine, from her socked feet to her curly hair. There was a bit of a stain on her leggings, but it was hardly noticeable.

Damon jumped up and hugged her as though he hadn't seen her for weeks at a time. It was he who had shouted her name before.

Valerie looked a bit annoyed by the whole ordeal. She cast Barry a wary glance. "I'm fine, Dad."

"I _told_ you not to do that anymore. What if you fell? What if that–"

 _"Shh!"_ she hissed, beginning to look panicked now.

"You can't do this! I'm _tired_ of worrying about you, Valerie. You almost died once, I can't watch that happen to you again!"

She continued fidgeting, her hushes becoming louder and breathier with each word that Damon spoke.

"I _know_ this is what you want, and I get if you want to go hang out with your friends and do _normal_ teenage things, but this–"

 _"Shut up!"_

Damon looked taken aback by her sudden outbreak. It was as though he hadn't heard a word she had said. It took Barry a minute but, as he followed her wide-eyed glances at Joe, Iris, and himself, he became aware of what bothered her so much.

She didn't want them to know.

Uncomfortable familiarity hit him like a brick to the face. Did Joe feel the same about him as Damon did Valerie? The situations couldn't be more similar, though he doubted Valerie practiced the same sort of caution and safety that he and his team did (that is if she even _had_ a team of people to back her up. Barry assumed that she didn't, though he was curious as to where she acquired that suit).

Then, slowly, a singular thought escaped from his mind and passed freely through his lips in a low mutter. "What _was_ that thing?"

All attention turned to him.

"What?" said Iris.

Barry let his gaze come to rest on Valerie. "The thing you were fighting. What was that?"

Valerie made a small choking noise. Then, after several seconds of staredown, her face contorted into one of pure anger and she rounded on Damon like a coiled snake. "You _told_ them _?_ "

"No!" Damon stuttered. "I mean, yes, I–"

"Oh, no, please! Why don't you just set cameras in my room and show them all of those tapes, too! Maybe it's a good idea to have a lighthearted conversation about the traumas of my childhood while you're at it!"

Someone knocked quietly on the door.

"God, who is it now? No, wait; don't tell me. I wanna be surprised."

Valerie stomped over to the entrance and opened the door with such force that it slammed into the opposite wall.

A boy, small in stature with shoulders hunched inwards, stood on the other side. Black hair that stood up at odd angles sat atop his head and bounced a bit as his cool blue eyes met Valerie's. "Hi, is this a bad time?"

She slammed the door in his face.

"Valerie!" chastised Damon, who was beginning to look more frustrated than concerned by the second.

"Oh my God," she muttered. Then, with a heavy sigh, she flattened her curls and opened the door again (slowly this time).

"Danny! Hey!"

"Are we gonna pretend you _didn't_ slam the door in my face just then?" he asked. Barry sensed a bit of amusement tinging his voice.

"No, I–That was a–What are you doing here?"

Danny raised his eyebrows and held up some crumpled papers that looked like they'd been through a lot on the way there. "Ms. Tanya grouped us for an assignment. Something about anatomy."

Valerie's shoulders slouched suddenly. "You're joking."

"Wish I was. Can I come in?"

"Um." Valerie looked back over her shoulder at Barry, Damon, Iris, and Joe. "I'm kinda in the middle of something right now."

"We _really_ need to figure out a topic today. It's due in, like, twelve days."

Valerie directed her attention on Danny once more. "Just, um, just do it on ghosts or something."

Danny's back went rigid. "Ghosts?"

"Yeah," said Valerie, none the wiser. "Your parents are into that so you can just base it off their research or whatever."

"Oh." He visibly relaxed. "Right. But it's a group project."

Valerie nodded absentmindedly. "Uh-huh. So I'll see you later then? Cool."

"Wait–"

The door was shut on Danny once more.

"Valerie," huffed Joe. "That wasn't nice at all."

"He doesn't need to be dragged into this," she hissed under her breath, whipping around to face the four. Her curls swayed and bounced with each slight movement.

Ah, so Danny was none the wiser. Barry's mind faded from the hushed argument that pursued and he instead thought of how Valerie had reacted when seeing Danny at the door. The two were obviously close (or had been before, which would explain the awkwardness shared). Before him was a sixteen year old girl, angry and aggressive and incredibly opinionated, and yet she still kept her alter ego a secret from the people around her. Why? She would receive praise, would she not? Barry was certain that if he had gained his powers at that age he would be shouting such information from the rooftops in an attempt to be accepted. High school was a rough place.

But then he considered the reason he kept it a secret from Iris and, by default, the rest of Central City. He and Joe wanted her to be safe and disconnected from the weirdness that was now Barry's life; her getting involved (which she would want to do) would put her in more danger than she was currently in by just hanging around him.

His thoughts wouldn't be that complex as a teenager, though. Underneath Valerie's aggressive nature was a mature, smart girl. While she was rash, she took the time to consider what was most important to her: her friends.

Barry couldn't bring himself to be angry or worried; all he could feel was an intense sad aching in his chest. His childhood had been ripped away from him the moment his mother died and his father was taken away. Valerie grew up much faster than she should have due to her mother's death and her father's loss of his job.

He considered it all. Yes, his parents had been taken out of the picture when he was young, but at least he had the warm arms of Joe West and the sibling-like bond between him and Iris to keep him going. Meanwhile, Valerie hardly had a home to come back to at the end of the day.

 _At least she has her dad,_ a selfish part of him whispered. But, no matter what the circumstances, Barry found himself inadvertently empathizing with Valerie and becoming closer to her without speaking words.

 _Maybe I should tell her I'm The Flash._

No. Bad idea. He hardly knew this girl! He'd also be going back on his earlier promise not to tell those closest to him for their own safety.

On the flipside, however, maybe it would help her to know that there was someone else that knew something of what she was going through. Understanding can come in the strangest places and in the most unexpected people, after all.

He couldn't. He wouldn't. There was no way he could share such private information with _anyone_ other than the people that knew. He'd have to attempt to comfort her without laying out his own story on the table.

Valerie slammed her bedroom door shut in fury, leaving behind a angrily concerned father and a confused uncle and cousin. Then, without really thinking about it, he put a hand on Damon's shoulder and said, "I'll go talk to her."

And so Barry began his slow stroll to Valerie's room, his feet hesitating with each step closer. Perhaps it best to leave her to brood; she seemed like someone who preferred privacy in such situations.

No. _Stop,_ he berated himself. Enough with these head arguments and endless mind games.

Nevertheless, his hand faltered as he reached for the doorknob. Slowly, as to not scare her or himself, he cracked open the creaky door and said, "Can I come in?"

"Knock yourself out," came the soft reply.

Barry slipped inside. A cloud covered sun cast newfound shadows throughout the room and basked Valerie's back in a sort of soft silhouette. The still-open window let a gentle, warm breeze blow back wisps of chocolate brown hair. She turned to face him and the strands came back into her face. She tucked them behind her ears.

"Yeah?" she asked, clearly awaiting some sort of boring, awkward lecture about the dangers of her hobbies.

"I just…" He chewed on the inside of his lip. Everything that he had planned to say vanished from his mind. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she responded flippantly, standing from her sitting position on her bed and then crouching to pick up the clothes littering her floor. It was evident that she had decided that what he had to say was not worth her time.

Barry made a small, irritated noise. Then: "I think what you're doing is good."

Valerie froze, hand hovering over a pair of faded ripped jeans. "What?"

"I mean, it's obviously dangerous and you're pretty young–"

"Ah, there it is," she said, and she continued on with her cleaning as though she had never paused. "Listen, you should save your breath. I've already heard my dad tell me to stop; I don't need you hopping on that train, too."

"That's not what I'm saying. I…" Barry huffed a bit, took a deep breath, and started again. "I think it's really cool that you go out there and you fight for your town. Those things can't be easy to beat."

She paused again without looking up. A moment passed in which Barry was sure he'd said the wrong thing again and she was in the process of shutting him out for good when she muttered, "Ghosts."

"What?" Barry asked. What did ghosts have anything to do with what they were talking about?

"'Those things' are called ghosts." She looked up through thick eyelashes, patiently waiting for his reaction.

Nobody breathed for several seconds. Finally, Barry scoffed. "Ghosts aren't real."

"Ah, then I guess you and I are just seeing things, right?"

"No, I–"

"Ghosts never used to be real, Barney."

"Barry."

"When I was younger, they were the things that hid in my closet. When I was a little older, they were the things my friends liked to tell stories about to freak me out. And now they're emotionless, manipulative monsters that can't remember their past life and form unhealthy obsessions that usually end in someone alive getting hurt. But yeah, you're right: 'Ghosts aren't real.'"

Barry gulped. By her tone of voice, it was evident that she was not joking about. "When did they start showing up?"

"About two years ago."

He let out a huge sigh of relief. Alright, so it wasn't an effect of the particle accelerator explosion. Despite basic facts saying that it hadn't reached far past the Central City borders, he'd been afraid that these creatures (not ghosts, because the dead _couldn't_ scientifically come back) had been an aftereffect. Two years was far before the accident and therefore eliminated that variable.

So how _did_ these creatures get in Amity, then? And why was Valerie so convinced that they were _ghosts_ of all things?

Barry was unsure how to pose such questions; he didn't want them to sound as though he didn't believe in the notion and, therefore, cause her to get angry or shut down entirely. The goal here was to have her open up to him so he could perhaps help her during this week when concerning such … monsters?

"Tell me about them," he said finally, kicking aside a lone sneaker and taking a seat on the floor. He leaned against the wall and allowed it to support his top weight, assuring Valerie through way of movement that he was not going anywhere.

Her hand flittered over the top of a crushed velvet dress and smoothed down wrinkles and creases. Her legs were tucked underneath her. "They're horrible. They know exactly how to manipulate you to get what they want and they'll stop at nothing to do so." Then, quieter: "He ruined my life."

"Who?" Barry murmured, careful not to disturb the air.

She opened her mouth like she was going to say more but stopped, glancing up at him and then over to the laundry basket. She tossed the dress over to it, where it hung limply over the edge. "You want to know about ghosts? Ask the Fentons. They're the town's most renowned paranormal scientists." She stood.

"But–"

"It's almost dinner-time. Nasty Burger doesn't deliver to this side of town; I'll go pick up whatever everyone wants." With that, she walked passed him and opened up the door with a loud creak that made Barry jump a bit. The door swung shut behind her.

Barry frowned. He should have known that she wouldn't open up right from the start; this sort of thing would take time and careful consideration. In the meantime, though, all he could do was figure out what that thing was that Valerie was chasing and how it came to be. He might even ring Cisco and ask what his opinion of the situation was.

Barry's stomach grumbled, reminding him dully that he hadn't snacked once since lunchtime. His fast metabolism needed almost constant food to be thoroughly sufficed.

All that could be done at a later time. For now, however, he'd settle on eating dinner.


	4. an unorthodox meeting

_right so uh. hi. good morning/afternoon/night. i'm not even gonna make excuses because that would be an entire story in and of itself. merry christmas and i promise i will never give up on this story no matter how long the wait. i'm sorry. also happy new year; i hope it's a great one for each and every one of you._

* * *

 **fit for a king**

chapter four

 _an unorthodox meeting_

* * *

"Okay wait, what were they fighting about?"

"Tucker, I've said it like seven times."

Danny, Sam, and Tucker all sat in a booth situated in the far west corner of the Nasty Burger, each settled nicely into the worn red upholstery. Tucker was just finishing his burger and had begun reaching for the stack of fries situated in the center of the table when he shrugged, his creased forehead betraying the nonchalant façade he was attempting to pull. "I just don't see why this is your problem, dude."

Sam and Tucker had been taking turns for the past thirty minutes chastising Danny for feeling guilty about walking into one of Valerie's family arguments (or rather hearing it from outside the room due to the apartment complex's thin walls). Their attempts to comfort him bore little fruit, as was evident by their friend's inward sloping shoulders and drooped head.

"It's my fault, you know," he muttered, swirling a heavily salted fry around and around a tiny paper ketchup bowl without end. "I was the one who revealed her secret to her dad."

Sam pursed her lips, opened her mouth to respond harshly, and snapped it shut in a desperate attempt to keep herself from being too blunt. Her nasty habit tended to have a negative effect rather than a positive one on Danny. After collecting her thoughts, she said, "Valerie tries to kill you every other day; she kind of had it coming." Sam regretted her words as soon as they came out of her mouth. They were too cruel, too Sam-like. She'd have to get better at that.

"Valerie's trying to help just the same as I am, guys," Danny retorted. His head thudded against the table.

"Oh yeah, she's really helping. Trying to kill the one guy who doesn't suck at hunting? Great job," said Tucker over a mouthful of fries. He coughed and swallowed, fighting down the handful of food he'd so blatantly shoved into his mouth.

"She doesn't know! She has good intentions!" Danny's voice was a mere mutter against the table, making it all but impossible to hear.

The front door dinged as it always did when someone came or left, but this ding was accompanied soon after by a loud, "Hey, Val! Your shift ended four hours ago, if that's what you're coming in for."

Danny's head came off the table so inexplicably fast, Sam was sure that he'd later have whiplash. There was no denying that hint of fear tainting his usually calm eyes upon her name, which only made Sam all the more angry.

"Yeesh, sorry about that," came Valerie's apologetic response. "I'm actually here to pick up dinner for the fam. Anything on the employee discount list?"

A large older man came from behind a swinging white door, his oversized finger pointed angrily in Valerie's direction. His name tag had a golden sticker beside the word 'Manager.' "For you, there isn't. That only goes to employees that actually show up to work."

As they watched, Valerie huffed and pulled a crinkled ten from her back pocket. It was singed around the edges, no doubt from one of her latest ghost-getting escapades.

There was no way that would be enough to feed the family members Danny had seen within that apartment. There had to be at least four of them, maybe five. Guilt clawed its way from the bottom of his stomach and into his throat, leaving a heavy, nauseous feeling behind.

He just barely found his voice enough to yell a quick, "Valerie!"

Her head whipped around, teal-eyed gaze landing on Danny at a reflexive speed unknown to many. There was a second where she looked sad, guilty, maybe, and then it was gone in the blink of an eye. She offered him a small smile and retreated from her place at the register to join Danny and his friends, recklessly shoving the bill in her back pocket as she did so.

"Hi," she started, growing timider upon approach.

"Listen," the two said in unison.

"You go first."

"No, _you_ go first."

Danny sighed, bringing a hand up to brush through tangled hair and sit atop his head. "I'm sorry about bursting in on your family's conversation."

There was a moment's pause, a tint of fleeting fear coloring Valerie's features, before she furrowed her eyebrows and chuckled weakly. "How much did you hear?"

"Nothing much," offered Danny. "It was muffled from the walls. Not that I was listening, anyway. I was just knocking on the door. Just me. And the door."

Valerie shook her head and smiled, for the first time, genuinely. "I'm sorry for forcing that homework assignment on you. Ghosts, right?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny could see Sam and Tucker tense and glare. Tucker's fry froze on the way to his mouth, a thin, accusatory frown looking out of place on his face. If Valerie noticed, she made no mention.

"Uh, about that, I don't really _want_ to ask my parents about ghosts."

"Oh, don't worry. You've got enough ghost science tucked into that brain of yours to make a project out of, I'm sure. I've … researched them a bit, too."

 _No kidding,_ thought Sam, her fingers clenching into a fist in her lap. She pulled restlessly on a loose string from her ripped jeans with the other hand.

"And I'll do whatever you want me to do. I can handle the paper writing and stuff as long as I have all the info."

Danny took a long sip of his pop, swallowed, and nodded. "I can make the presentation, then. Meet at your place tomorrow?"

Valerie worked her jaw a bit, pondering. "I … suppose. Does six work for you? I have work till five thirty."

"If she bothers to show up!" laughed a redheaded waitress as she passed, obviously privy to their conversation.

"That should be fine," Danny agreed.

"Cool." Valerie spun on her heel and headed for the door before remembering why she had come to the Nasty Burger in the first place. She closed her eyes, listened to the soft dinging of someone opening the doors, and reached for her back pocket. Two ten dollar bills came back, one crisp and neatly folded, the other singed with a penny-like scent to it. Someone had to have slipped it into her back pocket; she would've noticed if it was there before.

Her eyes went back to the booth, where nothing but a singular fry lay on the white table. The trio had bounced exceptionally fast.

No sense in ignoring simple mercies, she decided, and with a bit more bounce in her step she headed back to the cash register and placed her and her family's order.

* * *

Dinner was eaten quickly and without much small talk. The television news blasted from the living room and wrappers occasionally crinkled and cracked, but it was the only noise within the apartment. Things were still horribly tense between Valerie and Damon, but neither of them acknowledged it. So they ate, with Barry situated next to Iris and a headstrong Valerie.

A timer beeped near the end of their less-than gourmet meal and Damon switched it off as quickly as it had turned on, a drawn out sigh preceding a weak smile. He wiped at his mouth with a napkin and tossed his trash into the bin behind him.

"Work awaits," he said. It was weird to hear something in a room previously void of voices. Barry glanced at the clock: six fifteen.

Damon rounded the table and lightly set his warm, large hand over Valerie's shoulder. Almost robotic, she lifted her head and kissed him on the cheek, a soft "Love you," almost unheard.

Barry was … confused. It was no surprise, seeing as he'd been in some state of bewilderment for the entirety of the trip thus far, but it still struck him just how _mature_ the teenager beside him acted. She and her father were fighting, that much was evident through both the hours prior and through the stiff way she'd tilted her head to meet her father's, but she didn't entirely block out his affection as most others would do. It … wasn't as if they hadn't fought at all, but rather that they had fought, and had forgiven each other in their time of department.

Rare.

Damon grabbed a puffy brown-colored coat off the rack, stuck a nametag and a pair of keys into his shirt pocket, and headed out the door with a quiet goodnight to his guests and his daughter. The door squeaked and the lock clicked shut; the apartment was filled with that weird not-quite-silence once more. Valerie slid her chair away from the table and headed to her room without saying anything.

"This family's _weird,_ " muttered Iris, putting a voice behind Barry's thoughts.

"They'll warm up, I'm sure," replied Joe. His face betrayed his words, though, and the way he bounced his leg underneath the table was proof enough that he too was worried and anxious, without the slightest clue of what to do.

Barry knew what to do. He'd been planning it for a while. A trip outside, a quick run about the city. The fresh air and chill temperatures were sure to clear his heavy mind. Sightseeing, too, if there was anything worth seeing.

Some distant part of Barry's mind muttered something about ghosts, but he shoved the thought away for later. He wouldn't need to prove the nonexistence of ghosts on this trip; there was no way he'd find anything, anyway. A go-around and he'd come back, curl up on an air mattress, and go to sleep.

"I'm going for a walk around town," Barry said flippantly, sitting up from his position at the table. "I'll be back in thirty minutes. Maybe less."

"Barry." The meaning behind the warning look Joe flashed his way was entirely evident. _Stay safe. Stay cautious._

Barry glanced out the window and was greeted by the sun falling fast behind the buildings around him. He'd be back by nightfall, if nothing else.

"Don't get hurt," said Iris. She tossed her wrappers into the waste bin and headed towards the couch.

"I won't," he responded. And, with a quick tug on the sleeves of his jacket, he walked out the door and headed for the stairs.

Barry decided that Amity Park was pretty. Excluding Elmerton, that is. Street lights dotted mostly empty roads and sidewalks stretched every which way, down quaint little neighborhoods and wrapping around playgrounds. The houses all had relatively large yards, considering the fact that they were within a big town. On the north side were the mansions, with three or four stories and huge Victorian style front porches and balconies. Southeast of that was a big high school and a strange brick building with flashing lights and something large and bulky sitting atop the roof. Further south, closer to Elmerton but not quite touching the borders, was the strangely-named Nasty Burger and a wide shopping mall with two stories.

Barry took all this in while running just slow enough to not cause his clothes to burst into friction induced flames or for his running shoes to melt into smoking heaps on the sidewalk. He went down back alleys and careened across small neighborhoods and yards without fences, staying away from the main road. While he was just a blur against the purplish hues of almost night, he liked to take careful precaution.

It was this backroad sightseeing that led him to a peculiar sight that night.

Barry was just within Elmerton borders when he noticed it: a strange, green light emanating from between the walls of two dilapidated brick buildings. It was faint but eerily noticeable due to the yellow, dull street lights above, which did little but cast darkened shadows over the sidewalks and buildings. From a distance, a rusty stop sign caught the green light in such a way that it bounced back into Barry's eyes, confusing him. He slowed silently and came to a stop just around the corner, curled in a mulch patch beside a big, prickly bush. He was greeted only by the sound of the breeze playing through the branches behind him and the low humming emanating from the accused alleyway.

Something about the whole thing made his heart jump into his throat. There was something wrong here, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe if he just snuck a peek …

A red blur came slanting down from above, screeching to a halt just around the corner. Barry pressed his back into the bush, hiding (hopefully) just out of sight.

The humming stopped and a low, echoey chuckle took its place. "Ah, look, it's everyone's favorite Ghost Gal. Mind giving me a hand?"

Barry sat, wide-eyed. The male voice was human at its core but hidden beneath echoing, unearthly qualities that crawled up his spine and obtrusively entered his head. The more he thought about it, the more unnerved he felt. Could this be the _ghosts_ that Valerie had been discussing before?

"I'll take _off_ your hand," spat another voice, this one carrying more feminine qualities whilst still sounding tinny, as though speaking through a phone or a high school intercom. It lacked, however, the unsettling tones of the other one.

Despite the threat, the other dared to laugh. "See? That was a good one! I was starting to think you'd gone mute or something."

 _ZAP._ The alleyway lit up pink, the sound of crackling energy travelling and then intense quiet. Something sizzled distantly before petering out and the slight taint of burnt garbage filled the air.

There was a beat in which nobody said anything. Then: "Look, Val, I'm trying to clean up and you're making it–"

The words "Do _not_ call me that" were hissed, but Barry hardly heard it over the buzzing in his ears. The red blur, the voice, the name …

He was an idiot to not figure it out. He needed to step in before Valerie hurt herself, but without his suit … He was defenseless against the prying eyes of Valerie, who'd certainly be flabbergasted, and the unknown other just around the corner. If he could just peek his head around and assess the level of danger at hand, he could better make his decision. But, for now, the unknown seemed to be harmless. Even after Valerie had shot (he assumed it was her, seeing as the other had warily responded afterwards).

" … so couldn't you just continue on?" The other was saying. "I'm pretty sure me, a harmless ghost scrubbing dry ectoplasm off cement, isn't going to try and take over the world with a sponge and a bucket of water."

"Don't you have your stolen Thermos for that?" Valerie sneered.

"First of all, I didn't steal it. Second of all, dried ectoplasm is _impossible_ to suck up. It's a lot harder to make a solid become a gas than it is for a liquid to become a gas."

"Enough chit chat," barked Valerie, and a weapon hummed against the cool night air. "You're gonna _pay_ for what you did to my family, Phantom."

"Oh, my God, did you actually not hear a _word_ I just said?"

Another shot went off, but this time it crackled and sparked against something else that crackled and sparked with equal intensity.

Barry risked it. He _had_ to know what was happening; it was eating him up on the inside to just sit and wait. One eye and a tuft of his hair was all that peeked out, but he still felt exposed, as though he had just stepped out from behind the bush and shown himself entirely to the two.

Here's what he got from between blasts of pink energy and the occasional defensive green light that spackled the dark alleyway: A red suit, the one he'd seen earlier that day, basked in the glow of neon colors. A boy, most likely a teenager, with stark white hair and a weird sort of halo enveloping his entirety. It was like he created his own light, though it was hard to be sure with the strobe-like blasts. One thing was for certain, though: the kid was _definitely_ hovering a couple feet in the air, almost above a dumpster splotched with something that looked dark green and crusty.

Another shot came from Valerie's gun, but this time it hit its mark: The _ghost_ (the term felt foreign and mocking even in his mind) flew backwards, hit the brick wall behind him, and recovered just enough to glance down at the new oozing neon green gash on his calf before wide eyes travelled back to the other end of the alley. For a gut-wrenching second, he and the ghost's eyes met.

And then he was gone. The ghost flew up and over the building so quickly that he looked more like a black and white blur, almost camouflaged against the darkness of the night sky. A single drop of ectoplasm fell from above and splattered against the pavement in front of him.

Barry sped out of there so quickly, the rubber of his tennis shoe streaked a singular black footprint against the light gray concrete.


	5. bring to light

_right, so, uh, first of all, hi ! i feel like it hasn't been_ too _long since i last updated, but i could be wrong. life just keeping getting busier. but, hey! GUESS WHO GETS TO PERFORM AT ALL STATE SPEECH!_

 _i'm going to start this with a rather unprofessional question: did i_ ever _mention the day of the week before? because i know in my head i had the day that i wrote in this chapter as saturday, but i changed it so i could mess a bit with the plot and i just. i just don't know if i'm being inconsistent and i can't for the life of me find any place where i might have mentioned the day or the weekend or anything of the sort. sos. send help._

 _anyway, enjoy! i'm excited to branch into the_ real _plot, which should be coming soon. there's a particular scene that i can't stop thinking about writing. patience, taylor, patience._

* * *

 **fit for a king**

chapter five

 _bring to light_

* * *

Danny stumbled through his window and into his bedroom, breathing heavily. His wound, now burned and scraped around the edges, had been leaving droplets of ectoplasm along the darkened backstreets of Amity and now leaked quietly onto his tiled floor. Flying was beginning to feel laborious, so he limped his way to his closet and pulled down the cardboard box that held his medical supplies (which was now sporting a smudged green handprint).

It was too dark to accurately examine the wound. He held his selected bandage in between his teeth and pulled himself halfway off the ground to feel for the closet light, which burned his eyes the moment it flashed on. He _really_ hoped nobody was awake or upstairs to see the glow around his door and then blocked out the thought and focused on his leg, which was looking worse than it had before.

The skin had been burnt and his suit partially destroyed to reveal a horrible, blood-oozing oval across the side of his calf. Even as he watched, he could see his accelerated healing working to fix the wound. Blisters formed and popped atop the skin, particularly in the middle. It looked (and felt) a bit like a bubbling volcano.

Danny picked at a bit of dry ectoplasm that was stubbornly attached to the fabric atop his chest. It wouldn't be there anymore when he transformed again later, but it gave him something else to think about.

Something else. His brain flashed back to the moment he'd been hit, the flash of light illuminating one half of someone's face peeking out from around the corner. Wide green eyes met his.

Danny shook his head in a vain attempt to rid himself of the intrusive thought. He looked back down at the burn again, analyzing it with newfound focus.

Right, so there was nothing to stich. He supposed he should have known that, seeing as it _had_ been a burn mark brought about by Valerie's gun. Danny wondered briefly what Valerie would think of him now, and if she would be mentally analyzing ghost physiology for their biology assignment. He chuckled a bit sadistically at that, reaching into the box and pulling out a crusty, green coated bottle of rubbing alcohol. The bandage remained between his teeth. If anything, it would be something to bite when he cleaned out his wound.

 _Hey,_ he thought mockingly. _Valerie could always dissect me. I bet the information_ that _gave her would give us an A for sure._

And with that, he poured the rubbing alcohol over the center.

* * *

Barry sat atop Valerie's bed, his leg tapping anxiously against the floor so quickly that it was nothing more than a blur. She hadn't yet returned from her ghost hunting adventures and, though he didn't see her get hurt, he was nervous nonetheless.

Barry thought back to the ghost. He thought about the horrified way he stared at his injury and the way bright green eyes landed upon him in momentary terror.

It didn't make sense. Not at all. At some point during his contemplations, he had to consider if it had just been a hallucination brought about by exhaustion, but that couldn't be. He had seen the thing Valerie was chasing earlier that day, he had watched Valerie and her father bicker, and he had listened to Valerie as she talked about hunting and capturing ghosts.

Barry looked up for the first time in several minutes, his eyes landing on the sliver of yellow light from the bathroom that illuminated a bit of a newspaper clipping taped to the wall. Upon it was a zoomed in picture of a white haired boy, his mouth pushed down in a frown. His eyes stared angrily at something to the far right.

The ghost from the alley.

Barry approached the newspaper clipping like it would reach out and bite him if he moved too quickly. The image was grainy and lacked color, but anybody could tell that, whatever it was, it was _young._ He wasn't sure if he could call the ghost a kid, being that it was a ghost and he had as of yet to wrap his mind around _that_ , but it definitely looked that way. Barry's gaze dropped to read the article the picture was attached to.

THE PHANTOM BOY: A HERO OR MENACE?

 _While Jack and Maddie Fenton, Amity Park's own ectoscientists, continue to insist that the notorious ghost boy is something that must be disposed of immediately, some citizens continue to push back. As of late, Danny Phantom (pictured above) has fought against many malevolent beings and has saved more than one from being violently attacked in an attempt to rid himself of his past. "He's really been looking out for us," says one citizen. "Phantom's been around for two years and has done a lot of good things that we probably don't even know about. We shouldn't fight against him just because he's messed up a couple of times."_

 _Others, however, argue against this. They point toward the ghost invasion incident on February 4 and Phantom's infamous bank robbery a mere three months later to support their claims of the ghost boy's guiltiness. Scientist and billionaire Vlad Masters, now the mayor of Amity Park, spoke with us on the subject of Danny Phantom._

 _"Ghosts know how to manipulate people," Mayor Masters said in an interview. "They are incapable of having empathy or feeling much of anything due to their lack of actual nerves and proper brain functions. I can say with certainty that any ghost is a bad ghost, no matter how human they look or what act they put on."_

 _The controversial topic, however, continues to be unsolved until further investigation. Danny Phantom, whether good or bad, will continue to keep watch over Amity Park. The question remains: is he a hero or a villain?_

Barry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. He hadn't the slightest idea as of why Valerie set off to fight the ghost, now known to be named Phantom, or what the notorious ghost invasion and bank robbery was, but he knew how to find out.

He went to his suitcase and dug speedily through it, messing up his neatly folded clothes in the process. At the bottom of the bag was a laptop wrapped in its own cord. He pulled it out, threw the charger, and opened it, tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg as he waited for it to boot up. The screen lit, washing his face in blue. Barry clicked twice upon the web browser and it had barely opened before his fingers tapped out words into the search engine. The laptop lagged a bit before it spit out the results.

AMITY PARK: MOST HAUNTED GHOST TOWN?

AMITY PARK NAMED MOST HAUNTED TOWN IN AMERICA

GHOST CAUGHT ON CAMERA! (not clickbait)

Paranormal Sciences

DANNY PHANTOM FAN PAGE

The first two were news articles, the third a youtube link, the fourth a .org site, and the fifth a blog similar to the one Iris kept about him. He tapped twice upon the blog and quickly exited out when he was met with a barrage of pop-ups and bright colors. Iris' website of him wasn't like that, was it? Perhaps so, perhaps not. That was hardly his issue at the moment. Or ever.

Barry tapped on the fourth site and anxiously cracked his knuckles as he waited for it to load. It was organized rather plainly, with a white background and a black text About section detailing two doctors both with the last name of Fenton. The only splashes of color on the homepage were the occasional neon green links and pictures of the family with captions underneath: A big, burly man named Jack, a curvy woman named Maddie, a redhead named Jazz, and a black-haired kid known as Danny. They were all smiling and laughing, like the picture had been taken spontaneously at the climax of the moment. After a few more seconds of looking, Barry realized why Danny's face looked so similar: he was the kid that had knocked on the Gray's door earlier that day.

Barry scrolled down. Latest findings, ghost anatomy, fourth dimensions … ah, there it was: "Danny" Phantom. The ghost boy apparently had a page dedicated to him. Whether that was an honor or something short of an achievement to be known by ghost _hunters_ was beyond him.

Other page links dotted the newly opened one, but now the links were dedicated to Phantom and Phantom only. Barry got the impression that Phantom was different from other ghosts without really giving it much thought. The kid, er, _thing,_ had its own latesting findings tab, fabricated personality tab, anatomy tab, and powers analysis tab. He could see now that Phantom was more than what meets the eye.

He'd need someone better at research to help him out with this. Surely there was someone that knew the ups and downs of weird things that took place in America.

Nevermind. There was someone. Barry couldn't believe that he hadn't called him the first chance that he'd gotten. He pulled his phone out of his pockets and didn't bother searching through the contacts: his name was right up there in his recents.

"Yellow."

"Hey, Cisco," Barry started. "I'm gonna need you to look someone up for me."

* * *

The next morning, Danny was a dead man walking (no pun intended). He'd had another strange small-animal-turned-big incident last night after he'd cleaned and bandaged his wound (which, by the way, he still had a bit of a limp due to the combined efforts of the aforementioned and the lingering consequences of the hummingbird battle). He had rolled out of his bed and changed into a pair of jeans that smelled mostly clean and a plain white and red Casper High tee that was worn and stretched around the edges but still mostly fit. Then he was downstairs, pouring himself a cup of coffee with extra milk and sugar and shoveling three bowls of cereal down his throat (healing and ghost hunting made him hungry, okay?) before grabbing ahold of his backpack filled with untouched homework and shouting a quick, "Love you!" to his sleepy parents, whom had just spent an entire night researching rather than sleeping.

That was the regular routine. Get up, change, eat, repeat. His mornings had become as second nature to him as ghost hunting, with it only being disrupted when he actually pulled out his homework and had to dig through his room to find it or when Jazz lectured him on eating too much, too fast. Danny enjoyed the normalcy. He also enjoyed his walk down the street toward the school, despite the limp in his gait. Last night, after properly (as properly as he could get, anyway) cleaning and bandaging Valerie's little present and fighting off the aforementioned giant animal, he'd duct-taped a grocery bag around the edges and taken a much needed shower and brushed his teeth for a long while. He felt clean and, while more exhausted than he'd been the day previous, a bit more prepared to take on the day.

That being said, something was off. He could feel it in the air and in the way his gut sort of twisted, as though his cereal wasn't quite agreeing with him. The more giant animal attacks he experienced, the more strange he felt. Besides that, he hadn't really received a visit from sentient ghosts in … well, in a week. _That_ was weird. Not even a meager threat from Skulker had disturbed the not-quite peace.

Now, Danny discussed his worries (they were _not_ paranoia) with his friends. They met at the bus stop closest to Tucker's every day, as his residence rested directly between both Sam's and Danny's. Sam, technically, was always moving away from the school before she began her trek back down the road again just so she could meet up with the boys before the bell rang. Danny always insisted that she didn't have to do it, but she assured him that she _wanted_ to walk. It gave her time to ponder and, later, time to talk with her friends.

As usual, this morning the two of them were waiting for Danny to arrive. He was always the later sleeper of the three.

"Maybe it's Skulker," Tucker offered, hands slung on the straps of his backpack. Today, his white tee read in Comic Sans font, 'papyrus.' It was the font that James Cameron, director of Avatar, had used for the movie's title, and Tuck had been cracking jokes about it ever since its release. "He has a knack for capturing weird ghost things and setting them off on you."

"He's not subtle enough," countered Sam. "It's been a week now; he'd have gotten bored already and starting firing himself."

"Can't be Technus," Danny muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Or Ember. Or Lunch Lady. Or any of the other regulars. I've never seen them handle animals before."

"Bertrand likes animals, doesn't he?" Sam offered, though her tone betrayed her doubt. "Maybe it's been him all this time."

"No; he'd have spoken to me by now. He and Spectra don't know how to shut up." Silence fell upon the group, a bit less than their usual comfortable tranquility.

"That leaves one option, then," Tucker removed his hands from his backpack straps and folded them and unfolded them in front of himself anxiously.

Danny didn't say anything. Instead he focused on the regular intervaled cracks in the sidewalk and tried to step only twice within one block. _One two. One two. One two._

"It's never good when he's quiet," Sam said. "He's always up to something bad when he's quiet. When's the last you heard from him, Danny?"

"Not for several weeks, maybe a whole month. You know how he's been lately, though. This whole year he's been quiet and reclusive." Danny scratched at his forehead. "Just some petty fights here and there."

Tucker hummed in response. The name went unsaid: Vlad Masters, nondescript half-ghost supervillain billionaire of the year, and the next year, and year after that (according to _Affluence Magazine_ ). He'd been a constant middle-aged pain since year one of Danny getting ghost powers, and he was a _lot_ smarter. Living this long with that guy on his tail was just strokes of luck that were more than likely brought about by Vlad holding a bit of a soft spot for him. The idea of him made Danny want to vomit.

"You should check in," Sam said, breaking Danny out of his contemplations. "See what he's been up to and if it's gonna cause us any trouble."

"Gonna cause _me_ any trouble, you mean." Danny's expression darkened. When it came to Vlad, he didn't want any of his friends involved.

"Danny, we've gone over this, and—"

"The guy's a creep fueled by his own ghostly obsession," Danny finished, sending a half-hearted glare in Sam's direction. "Anyone gets in his way, they're dead."

Sam sputtered. "You haven't died."

Danny gave a wan smile. The long-standing macabre joke of him being dead rang morbidly through his head. "Promise me you guys won't go near that creep, okay? I'll check him out tonight, but I'm doing it alone."

"But—" Sam started, looking frustrated.

" _Promise._ "

She huffed. "Promise."

"You too, Tuck," Danny said, elbowing his friend playfully in a lame attempt at ridding the heavy atmosphere that had fallen upon the three.

"Hey, you don't have to worry about me." Tucker put his hands up placidly, like he was signaling to the police that he didn't mean any harm.

"Cool."

The trio approached the school, with its student chatter and big, gaping entrance, ready to swallow them up and spit them back out with piles of homework over trivial things that weren't actually interesting or important. Labelling the prepositions in a sentence? Baloney. Danny would take a ghost over Lancer's endless droning any day.

And then there was always Valerie and his project to worry about. He'd be meeting up with her later. It wasn't like Danny did anything special on Fridays, anyway, but he sort of didn't want to spend it dodging questions about ghost physiology in an attempt to sound ignorant when concerning the topic. He didn't need anymore unwanted attention.

Just then, a giant, fanged ghost spider crawled up and over the high school, its front razor-sharp blade of a leg coming to rest right above the front door. Kids screamed and ran as the huge thing hissed throatily.

Danny rolled his eyes. Just what he needed to start out the day: _another_ big bad bug ghost attack.

If his theory about Vlad was right and he really _was_ the one to blame for all this unnecessary work, he was totally going to kick his butt straight out to the middle of the Ghost Zone later.

Danny bounced to better shoulder his backpack and went to go find a bush to hide in.


	6. awkward encounters

_wow. it's ... been a while. i'm so sorry. all i can say is that seasonal affective disorder and being a literal walking psychology experiment got the best of me and leave it at that. i'd also like to reiterate that I AM NOT ABANDONING THIS STORY. no matter how long i'm gone, i'll always come back. i promise._

 _this chapter was really difficult for me to write. I worked on it at least twice a week since i've been gone and had little to no progress to show for it. i'm sorry about that, too. next chapter will definitely be more action! let's hope i get it up before july._

 _i love you all very, very much. thanks for sticking with me throughout. i'm really excited to show you all what i've got planned for the future._

* * *

 **fit for a king**

chapter six

 _awkward encounters_

* * *

Danny landed invisibly within the alleyway he'd been shot in by Valerie the night before. Bits of dried green ectoplasm remained on the walls of the dumpster and stained the concrete, leaving behind a green tint that would undoubtedly stay for many weeks before rain clouds appeared and washed the stain into the city's drainage system. He squatted soundlessly, the weight of his textbooks making themselves ever present as he bent, and picked at a stubborn patch he'd been scrubbing at before being … interrupted. Danny's calf twinged - it and the bandages wrapped around the wound served as a dull reminder that, no matter how hard he pretended he was, he was much less than invincible.

His school had AB block scheduling, which meant that today after the final bell Dash Baxter would meet him midway as the two headed towards their lockers, Danny coming back from astronomy and Dash from Algebra 2. Less than exemplary assignments and built up frustration from the day could be taken out on Dash's favorite victim. Danny had had his head down, shuffling through a handful of late assignments that would have to be done before Monday came around, when he felt something hard connect with his bad leg and he hit the floor. Black spots dotted his vision at the pain. The worksheets scattered, fluttering on wind caused by other students rushing past. Dash and his posse snickered from above.

He had sat keeled over on the ground for at least a minute, red hot flames dancing up his leg and lighting his nerves on fire. He'd only stood when he'd duly noticed that a bit of blood from the cracked open scab had begun bleeding through his jeans and dripping onto his white socks.

He had changed his jeans and socks since then.

The time now was five thirty, which left a whole thirty minutes to get to Valerie's house from the alleyway by foot before she came back from her job at the Nasty Burger. He was still limping, so he not only needed the extra time but he _wanted_ it. He wanted to be able to check and make sure no other damages were done to the alleyway and that his trail of ectoplasm leading back to the house wasn't noticeable enough for his parents to catch wind. Before even heading on his way, Danny had done an extra thorough mopping of his room and doused the whole place in lavender scented Febreeze to remove any stains or smells from when his wound made an ectoplasmic mess all over the floor. The alcohol had pretty much masked it but, as Sam so often reminded him, he had to be cautious. One slip up could lead to something horrible when it came to his ghost half.

Danny stood, shrugged his backpack higher up upon his shoulders, and exited the alleyway. The moment he did, though, he noticed something: a smudged, black rubber shoe print so greatly contrasted the light gray cement that it would have been impossible to miss. Danny looked back; it could only have come from the bush that almost rounded the corner.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he remembered the half-slice of face illuminated by pink from the night before. Whoever it was would have had to been going fast to make a mark like that on the pavement. Danny had never seen anything like it before.

Yet another thing to add to the strange list of things that were going on as of late. He bit his lip; it couldn't have been Vlad because the face was too young and because Vlad's eyes were blue. Plus, this guy had been scared, concerned even, whereas Vlad knew how to remain composed. Along with that, ghosts almost always floated, so the footprint couldn't be explained away by a curious benevolent ghost. It had to have been a local, human by the looks of it, that happened upon the fight. Nobody in Amity would be caught _near_ Elmerton if they could help it. Someone close. Someone young.

Danny stood and continued walking. His gait made him slow, just as he had suspected.

A piece was still missing, but he couldn't yet place it. Before him was two separate puzzles: Vlad and his possible army of mutant giant animals, and the face staring out at him from around the corner. Oh, and another thing: homework would have to be saved for tomorrow. He'd be studying with Valerie and stalking Vlad tonight. Homework was a mere triviality in the life of the infamous Danny Phantom.

He bounced a bit to better shoulder his backpack and began walking faster towards Valerie's apartment.

* * *

Barry adjusted his outstretched feet on the coffee table. He'd been up for most of the night talking with Cisco about ghosts and Amity Park's history with only a few power naps to his name; dark circles began to show underneath his eyes. At the present moment, Barry was continuing his research. He knew, of course, that his constant searchings for answers were becoming obsessive, but he still jotted notes down into his laptop.

For a moment, Barry stopped and harshly rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear his scampering thoughts. He glanced back over the document. At the top, he had messily mixed ghost levels with ghost types: level one ghosts consisted of mindless ectoplasmic blobs, level twos had a strong enough consciousness for self-preservation, and level three carried semi-mindless minions and goons. According to the Fentons website, it wasn't until level four that the ghosts became independently sentient, albeit weak. Phantom was a startling level seven and rising. While he had found this refreshingly terrifying, Cisco found it within himself to think that the whole situation was _cool._ Barry shook his head absentmindedly. Personally, he found ill-intended obsession-driven ghosts very _not cool._

Underneath that was a brief recapitulation on the so called "Ghost Zone" and how it worked. Most of the Fenton's explanation contained a lot of graphics, physics, and theorems that he didn't quite understand. Cisco assured him that it was nothing important but saved the page link anyway.

Next was an assessment of power. Barry could scarcely believe his eyes when he and Cisco dug deep into this. Ghosts were like metas cranked up to ten; most could selectively go intangible and invisible at will, float and _fly_ , and shoot rays of energy at attackers. Phantom's list of powers went above and beyond. The Fentons had listed possession, duplication, cryokinesis, ectoplasmic _pyrokinesis,_ spectral body manipulation, increased strength, increased durability, increased stamina, increased speed, regenerative healing, and so, so much more. Deep down, some dark part of him was even becoming a little jealous; all he had was speed.

Barry laid his head back and closed his eyes. He must have laid there for a while, drifting on whispers of thoughts, because when a knock came from the door he spooked and found a drip of drool sliding horizontally down his cheek. He was the only one awake in the apartment, as Iris and Joe had gone sightseeing, Damon was asleep, and Valerie was still busy at work.

"Coming!" he called, hoping that the person wouldn't knock again. The last thing Barry wanted was for Damon to wake up. He hastily closed his laptop and set it down on the coffee table. After several half-awake attempts, Barry was able to find footing and walk towards the door. The locks clinked and the door squeaked when he opened it.

Before him was the boy from the Fenton's website. The boy from yesterday afternoon. Despite himself, Barry gaped. He had completely forgotten that he and Valerie had scheduled to meet up today. His appearance made answering his own questions all the more easier.

"Can I come in?" Danny Fenton asked. He quirked an eyebrow, seemingly amused by Barry's dumbfoundedness.

"Oh, yeah, yeah! I mean, come in!" Barry stepped sideways towards the door and waved his arm in a sweeping motion, beckoning the teen inside. As he passed, Barry took in every detail: the white tee and blue plaid flannel, the way his jeans were ripped at the bottom hem and hung off him, his beyond ruined white tennis shoes. All of his clothes hung loose, like they'd been handed down from an older brother twice his size. That didn't make sense, though; Barry hadn't seen or heard of an older brother from the Fenton's website.

Danny glanced around, leaning forward to glance down the hallway. "Is Valerie here?"

Barry shook his head. Then, realizing that Danny wasn't facing toward him, he spoke. "She's still at work." Danny frowned disappointedly. "But she should be home soon!" Barry quickly assured, slowly closing the still-open door.

Danny nodded absentmindedly. "I'll just sit here then."

"You do that," Barry stuttered.

They both sat at opposite ends of the couch, Danny with his backpack by his feet. After several minutes of total radio silence, Barry reached for the remote and turned on the TV, thumbing through stations until he found the local news. He figured that it would make adequate background noise for his turmoil thoughts. His fingers tapped silently on the arm of the chair.

Barry didn't know what about Danny made him so anxious. Perhaps it was the knowledge that, beside him, was a whole wealth of primary source information for Barry to tap into. It was possibly the fact that he couldn't get himself to ask Danny about his family, or their inventions, or the ghosts. Maybe the whole website was a hoax and Danny would laugh at him. Maybe he'd get mad and stalk away.

 _Relax, Barry, relax._ He took a deep breath and hummed quietly in thought. When he glanced over at Danny, he noticed that his eyes were fixated on the TV. He also noticed that it seemed like a permanent scowl constantly adorned his face. Even though he'd only met the guy a few moments ago, he felt as though that was odd. When he'd opened the door, Danny had been some smiley, curious kid. Now, though, there was age in the bags under his eyes and the furrow of his brows.

Barry remembered how cold Danny's hand had been when he shook it yesterday.

"Earlier today, famous town vigilante Danny Phantom was caught on the camera of a student's phone saving the school. Let's play the footage back."

Barry spun his head around and stared, wide eyed, at the TV. It was shaky and a bit grainy, but it was just enough to see: a spider the height of the school loomed overhead, a small black blur circling it. Occasionally the spider would spit green venom at the black blur and the blur would fire back, but it was too shaky to tell much of anything. Suddenly, the spider roared and swung it giant head, effectively unrooting a nearby tree and throwing it in the direction of the camera. Students screamed. The black blur came slowly closer. The camera shifted and landed in the grass.

 _Crack!_

Barry nearly stood up. He froze in his seat, unable to move. Had the news just shown the final moments before a kid's death?

Suddenly, the sound of shifting carried through the phone's microphone. It was picked off the ground and pointed in the direction of a huge green wall shaped as a dome,

There was Phantom, both hands flat against the wall. "You guys alright?" he asked between breaths. His shoulders heavily rose and fell - but that couldn't be right, could it? Ghosts don't breathe.

"Yeah," came the weak, shaky response.

"Okay," Phantom said. He heaved a deep breath and leaned on one foot like the other was bothering him. "Alright. When I take down this shield, you guys are gonna run to the stop sign at the end of the street, okay? And don't stop until you get there."

"Phantom?" someone behind the camera asked.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Phantom chuckled like she'd said something funny, but the act seemed to pain him. "Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. Just get out of here, alright?"

The green dome dissipated and the screen went black. It moved to the right corner of the TV to make room for the news station, who repeated the footage silently whilst the news reporters talked. Barry looked over to find Danny staring down at his hands. There was a burn mark in the center of his left palm that he seemed particularly interested in. He clenched his fist and tensed from the pain.

"Were you at the school when that happened?" Barry asked.

Danny spooked as if taken out of his thoughts, took a beat to recuperate, and said, "Well, yeah. But I was behind a bush pretty much the entire time, so I was fine."

Barry bit his lip. "So … where'd you get that burn?"

Danny gave a wan smile. "I was cooking tomato soup and I'm not really that smart."

"Oh." Barry looked away, restlessly twiddled his fingers, and tried again. "Do you … do you know Phantom?"

At that, Danny startled again. His wide eyes were quickly exchanged for a skeptical look. "Why?"

"I was just, y'know, wondering."

Danny sighed. "You've never been to Amity, huh?"

Barry was a bit surprised at the change of topic, but he nodded anyway. "It's been twelve years."

Danny chuckled quietly. "Yeah, a lot's changed since then. Everybody that comes here is interested in the ghosts and in Phantom. I know of a few ghost tours out there, if you're interested."

Barry wrinkled his nose a bit. This whole place was a tourist trap. It was the one thing he was certain of within the first few minutes of his conversation with Valerie. The last thing he wanted was to be lured into an overpriced tour, but if the son of two well-known ghost hunters was referring to them, maybe they wouldn't be as corny as he anticipated.

"Yeah," Barry responded quietly, as if he was questioning himself. "Do you know when one is?"

Danny blinked. "Uh, yeah. They're always right after the sun goes down. I can check the website and see when the first one is."

"Okay."

"Can I, uh, see your laptop?"

Barry looked down and opened it. He was immediately bombarded by ten different tabs, all relating to ghosts in some way. Newspaper articles, YouTube videos, first-hand accounts. Expertly, he opened a new tab and closed out of all other sites. There was a second where Danny cocked his head in confusion, and then Barry slid the laptop across the coffee table and smiled meekly.

Minutes passed in total silence. The Amity Park News covered mundane things, like the expected weather for the upcoming week and a speech made by Mayor Master's superintendent explaining his absence.

"First one starts at 8:30," Danny said, breaking the silence. He slid the laptop back towards Barry, who glanced at the screen and slowly closed it.

"Do … Do you know anything about ghosts?"

Danny's expression darkened a little. It was hardly noticeable, but it was still there: that look of age in his light blue eyes, the way his under eye circles seemed to become more pronounced, and the slight downward tilt of his lips. "I know that they're bad news and that you should stay away from them."

"But your parents are ghost hunters, right? Have they ever gotten hurt?" Barry hesitated, then said, "Have _you?_ "

Danny rubbed his burn mark with his thumb absentmindedly. "A few times, yeah."

Without thinking, Barry blurted, "Do you hunt ghosts?"

Danny tensed. For a second, nobody breathed. Slowly, Danny's mouth stretched into a smile. He laughed easily. "Are you kidding? My parents would kill me if I wasn't already dead before they found out!"

The front door burst open and Valerie rushed inside wearing her orange Nasty Burger uniform. Her backpack hung heavily on her shoulders. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Danny. Something came up, and I…"

Barry stopped listening. He watched silently as Danny and Valerie made their way toward the table, Danny with his bag now in hand. There was something about the way Danny had answered his questions that unsettled him, though he wasn't sure why. When he paid close attention, something seemed off about Danny's gait as well. He got the feeling that he wasn't telling the whole truth. It seemed like he was dodging questions.

Barry checked his watch. The time was 6:30, which left two more hours until the ghost tour. If Danny wasn't going to answer his questions, he'd have to find out some other way.

And Barry was determined to know.


	7. a boring interlude

_um ,,, hi._

 _so i'm sure you're wondering "where did you go! four months!" and i understand entirely. i also ... have no excuses. it just happened. i'd like to tell you that i'm going to try to update more often, but my ability to write comes and goes. i've actually been sitting on this chapter for over a month with plans to continue it with barry's pov and i've just decided to upload it as its own chapter instead so you guys can have some content and know that i haven't died over the summer or anything. anyway! this is titled boring because it had absolutely no action in it whatsoever - sorry! this is why i wanted to extend it. i hope you enjoy anyway._

* * *

 **fit for a king**

chapter seven

 _a boring interlude_

* * *

Barry had left some time ago in pursuit of the ghost tour Danny had directed him towards. Danny chuckled under his breath. He had not checked up on the one he had shown Barry earlier but he doubted anything had changed. Danny was careful about keeping the majority of his fights a secret; if the town knew just how many were not publicized, it would cause a panic. Danny didn't do all the ghost fighting, anyway. Valerie and his parents had plenty racked up in the books that even he did not know about, so he was sure the number of ghosts he fought in a week doubled when adding Valerie's and his parents' bounty. That, all in all, was a _lot_ of ghost fights.

Danny focused on the task at hand. In front of him was Valerie's laptop and a stack of papers he'd secretly taken from the basement laboratory when his parents were not looking.

"You should add four-dimensional theory to our notes," he said absentmindedly, flipping through the stack of papers without really looking at them.

"What's that?" Valerie asked.

Danny looked up. "It's, uh, it says that the Ghost Zone is like a big circle around our dimension that exists on a plane that we can't see 'cause our minds can only process three-dimensional objects. But the circle is like, really malleable and floaty or whatever, so sometimes the edges of our dimension touch with the edges of the Ghost Zone and that creates natural portals."

Valerie twirled her pencil in between her fingers. "That doesn't really have to do with the biology of ghosts, though."

Danny chewed his lip. "I think the point of the theory is mostly that ghosts can travel four-dimensionally and that's how they become invisible or intangible."

Valerie jotted that down. "What paper did you find that in?"

"Oh, uh, I'll look for it."

Valerie's hand froze, the pencil coming to a stop on the paper. She looked up. "You had that memorized?"

Danny froze. A beat passed. Finally, he chuckled weakly. "Yeah, well, my parents have been talking about that theory ever since they got the portal open. It's kind of hard to not remember it."

"Oh." The faint sound of a pencil against paper started back up. Danny released a breath he did not know he had been holding in and searched quietly for the paper on four-dimensional theory.

After a minute or so had passed, Valerie asked, "Do your parents write anything about ghost psychology? I think we need more than physical explanations."

Danny held back a groan. "Yeah, I just didn't bring that stack today."

Danny did not think he ever wanted to bring that stack of papers. The information in that was just … hard to read. He knew from experience and a healthy dose of open-mindedness that half the information in those papers were false and driven purely on the idea that all ghosts have malevolent purposes in the world that needed to be combatted.

Danny restlessly tapped his fingers on the table. "Maybe we could, you know, combat some of their theories."

Valerie looked up, eyebrows pushed together in confusion.

"I mean, there's a lot of people that think all ghosts are bad and there's a lot of people that think some ghosts are good. So maybe we could find news articles or something to put in the project."

Valerie shook her head. "I think we should just stick to your parents' notes. It's supposed to be based on scientific evidence."

Danny bit his lip. "My folks can be kind of close-minded, though."

"Are you kidding?" Valerie asked, growing frustrated. "They're scientists, Danny! I'm pretty sure they know what they're talking about."

" … Maybe not."

"Oh, and you know better?"

Danny looked up and met Valerie's fiery glare. "Obviously you don't."

Danny was not being entirely fair. At the end of the day, the ideas that Vlad had pushed into her mind had led her to believe that _she_ was the hero of her story and not the other way around. She was trying to do good, but it was just _frustrating_ that she could not consider any other option when it came to ghosts. If he could just change her mind …

Valerie threw her head and huffed. "I think we should be done for tonight."

Danny started suddenly. He had not thought that she would have taken it this far. "But-!"

"No, Danny. I'm not doing this right now. I think you should see yourself out."

It was Danny's turn to huff. He pushed his chair back and stood to grab all the papers strewn across the table.

Valerie took the laptop and shut it quietly. It was hers, after all.

Once Danny had gotten everything packed up into his backpack, he shouldered it and looked at Valerie once more. "Same time tomorrow."

"I'm busy," Valerie responded, looking down at her clasped hands.

"Oh." Danny looked away. "Bye."

"Bye."

The floor creaked as Danny stepped away and opened the door. It closed slowly behind him.

He'd been dumb to think that Valerie would get something like this right off the bat. Danny had been trying to teach her that ghosts could be good as Phantom since the first time she jumped onto her jet sled and she hadn't listened then. Why on Earth had he thought that she'd listen now?

Danny felt like punching something. Though that was true, it didn't make him any less angry at the higher-than-thou way Valerie had shut him down. Why couldn't she just _listen_ for once?

Danny huffed and started walking. Before, he'd just been staring at the closed door in frustration. What he needed to do was head home, alert his parents that he was going to bed, and sneak out the window to take his frustrations out on someone more deserving of them. He tried not to let his emotions control his actions but hey, teenagers like himself sometimes just needed to let off some steam.

Now out of the building, Danny shuffled down the street towards the waiting alleyway that he'd for some reason dubbed his "transform and take off" area. Now that he thought about it, it was strange that he chose such a spot. There wasn't really anything to hide behind and obviously Valerie knew about it. He'd gotten injured and covered in goo there, so he didn't have fond memories of the place. And …

Against his wishes, Danny's mind wandered back to the face he'd seen and the rubber shoe residue he'd found on the ground. Many people had seen him fight with Val, so it wasn't like it was that big of a deal that the man had been curious. Despite that, Danny couldn't help shake the strange feeling that had settled deep within his bones. It was like his ghost sense hadn't quite stopped buzzing. Like some sort of danger was waiting just around the corner. It put him on edge a little more than he'd like to admit.

Danny shook his head. Thinking about it just made the eerie feeling worse. What he needed to focus on was the immediate danger, i.e Ms. Tanya failing him and Valerie if they didn't get this project done on time. He and Val fighting over differing opinions was never going to work out. Nevertheless, he didn't want to give up the fight and let her convince the entire class that ghosts are menaces to society. He'd have to think about this one … what was the best option?

His brain began analyzing it like he'd analyzed countless battle scenes. In this case, he had four options. The first was to let Valerie have her way. Pro: less internal fighting and a smoother, easier experience. Con: cementing people's beliefs that he and every ghost in sight deserved the harshest punishment imaginable for just _existing._ No, he didn't like that. The second was to take over the assignment entirely, which could, in theory, work. Pro: his own control over the ideas expressed in the slideshow and in the paper. Con: Val would probably be angry with him and their presentation would be a complete mess of bashing opinions in front of the entire classroom and Ms. Tanya, who didn't care for such debates and was willing to hand out detention slips at anything she deemed "out of line." He'd also have to find the time to do a lot more work. Yikes. Third option: Don't do the assignment. Pro: no work and no arguments. Con: basically everything else. Ms. Tanya would fail them and would still probably force them to finish it anyway; Danny had enough on his hands without having to stay after school to finish some rotten project. Between Mr. Lancer's detentions and ghost hunting, his day would be overpacked. Even in the case that it somehow wasn't, he needed some resting time. That left the fourth option: a compare and contrast structure. Ghost physiology was set in stone; it wasn't a matter of opinion as to what they were composed of and how they did the things that they did. Ghost psychology, however, had no "right" answer. His parents, probably the world's only Professional Paranormal Scientists, were unwavering in their opinion that any deed done by the dead was one done out of malice. There were, however, a few naysayers within the town of Amity. They mostly consisted of ones that believed in him and the in the new ideas he brought. With that being said, the pros of offering unbiased different sides to the matter would probably offer a better grade, hopefully a significant drop in infighting, and a satisfactory ending for the both of them. There were only cons in this situation if Valerie decided to be unreasonable.

Danny was momentarily tempted to go back and propose the idea to her. He was helpfully reminded, however, that she wanted time alone and that she could be … unstable at the best of times. He'd tell her in class on Monday.

Danny rounded the corner into the alleyway, took a quick glance around, and took to the skies even before he'd finished transforming. Night was beginning to fall.


	8. a stroll through the park

_hi! i'm not dead!_

 _no excuses here; i just want to let you guys know that i've been feeling better recently so i SHOULD (theoretically) be able to write more_

 _i felt a bit rusty writing this after such a long break, so please bear with me. i'll get back into the swing of things after writing for a little bit longer._

* * *

 **fit for a** **king**

chapter eight

 _a stroll through the park_

* * *

The streets of Amity became surprisingly cool as the sun fell below the horizon, darkening the sky to indigo. The street lamps flickered on as Barry headed towards a group of people grouped together beside a large sign: AMITY PARK'S HAUNTED GHOST TOUR.

As soon as he approached, he could hear the anxious chattering of a dozen or so people that were obviously unfamiliar with Amity's streets. He heard one family asking their phone where the nearest ice cream shop was and the mechanical _'Here's what I found on the web'_ answer that it provided. He quickly made up his mind to stay in the back.

Barry had to wait another five minutes before it started. A tour guide, dressed in a neon orange t-shirt that had the tour's name and logo on it, brightly said hi and explained to everyone the _horrors_ that they might encounter as they meandered about town. He also explained that at the end of the tour there would be a gift shop where they could get his t-shirt and more. Barry quickly became upset. He _knew_ that this was a scam. Had Danny tricked him?

Someone came up behind him, also dressed in a bright shirt, and announced that she'd follow behind to make sure nobody got lost. Great.

The tour began moving. It was too slow for his pace; he kept bouncing anxiously. Barry could cover so much more ground without the tour. Nevertheless, he'd already paid twenty bucks. That was too much for him to just leave.

Halfway through, the tour guide that took up the back matched his pace and walked with him. "Not really into this, huh?" she asked, though it sounded more like a statement. "Were you expecting more?"

Barry sighed a little, thinking. "No, I don't think so," he said. "I guess I had convinced myself that it could be informational, but deep down I knew what was coming."

The tour guide hummed. "I could give you some information, if it'd make you feel better. I've lived here my whole life."

"Really? You'd do that?"

She shrugged. "Ask away. I'm Sharon, by the way."

"Barry. It's nice to meet you."

Barry walked quietly beside her for a moment, thinking. "Um … do you know anything about Phantom?"

Sharon laughed. "Do I? He's only the best known ghost in town. What about him?"

"I guess … where is he spotted the most? Around here, I mean."

"Hmmm," said Sharon. "Well, he's not spotted often, I can tell you that. At least not close to the ground. He tries to keep a low profile, I think. But … he's around the school a lot during the daytime. Ghosts attack Casper High a lot. As for at night …" She trailed off, thinking. "I'd try Shade Park. A lot of people report seeing him there, though it's never really been confirmed. It's in the center of town. I heard that he can see the whole city from there, a few hundred feet above the air. So he can see ghosts before the attacks even happen."

"Huh."

"If you go check it out, don't be disappointed if you don't find anything. He's pretty illusive. My friend said that he can sense when people are coming.

"No kidding," Barry said, running through the things he had read online. None of them stated that he could sense people, but he should be cautious anyway. Just in case he disappears on him.

Barry got a sudden idea. "What do you think about him? Phantom."

Sharon kicked at a rock on the sidewalk. "You know, I think he's doing his best. I don't really believe those people that say it's all fake. I figure, it's been two years, why hasn't he dropped the nice guy act? And I think he gets hurt. A lot. I know everyone says that ghosts don't feel pain, but I've seen him get thrown into buildings and stuff. He's just … different."

"That's what I keep hearing," Barry said, a curious look on his face. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For your help."

Sharon waved him off. "Ah, it's no biggie. If you sneak off now I won't let Teddy know." She pointed at the guy leading the tour, who was talking animatedly.

Barry smiled. "You're a lifesaver."

Sharon grinned cheekily. "Yeah, yeah. Bye, Barry."

"Bye."

Barry didn't bother trying to stealthily sneak out. Instead, he slowed his pace until Sharon and the rest of the group was far ahead of him, snapping pictures with flash of their surroundings. It wasn't until they turned a corner when he stopped completely.

With the information he had learned recently, it was hard to feel comfortable alone on the streets. It wasn't that he was scared, necessarily, but instead he felt anxious, like there was someone eerily staring at him from one of the bushes.

Eerie. That's the word. Amity Park, though relatively pretty for a town, felt eerie at this time of night. He didn't need to dwell on it, though. Instead, he needed to figure out where he was and how to get to Shade Park.

He remembered seeing two parks on his trip around Amity yesterday. The first was smaller and had playsets for children, while the other one was a big stretch of fenced-in land with a few dirt, worn trails. Barry tried to picture Phantom swinging in the former park and decided quickly that he'd check out the bigger one instead. He recalled seeing lots of trees; he figured that if he were a flying ghost, that would be where he hid out.

Barry huffed. What was he talking about? He didn't know anything about being a flying ghost or why a ghost would feel the need to hide in a park. Nevertheless, he began heading toward the park at slow, hopefully casual jog. It wasn't long before he found himself at the locked gate. Briefly, he wondered why they bothered. He climbed over it easily.

Barry traveled along the path for a short time before realizing that someone that wanted to be hidden wouldn't hide beside the worn path that everybody typically took. He turned sharply in one direction and began walking into the thicker bit of the park, where the shade of trees practically blocked all sunlight.

He blindly traversed Shade Park for about 45 minutes when he finally came across a green hill with a single tree at its peak. He crouched behind a bush and peaked out.

Sure enough, there it was: the strange white glow he remembered from the other night. It was dim, hidden behind leaves and branches within the tree that it sat, but definitely there.

Barry stared like that for five more minutes before he got the guts to step out of the foliage to get a better look. At 20 feet away, he stopped and laid down on his stomach. Phantom was visible from here.

It—He, more like it, had one leg flat against a rather thick branch and another pushed up so that his elbow could rest on his knee. His back and head rested on the trunk behind him.

In all honesty, he looked relaxed. He wasn't sure if ghosts could feel relaxation, but in human terms he seemed so. While Barry watched, Phantom took a deep breath through his nose and pushed it out in a heavy sigh.

Barry furrowed this eyebrows. That was strange. Ghosts didn't need to breathe.

Phantom's eyes were fixed on the sky above; the lack of street lights made the stars much more visible. His eyes travelled slowly around the sky, like he was pinpointing every constellation.

All of a sudden, the ghost began humming. It sounded suspiciously like "Starman" by David Bowie.

With each passing second, Barry was getting more and more confused. This wasn't at all how he pictured ghosts to be. Phantom looked nothing like the monstrosity he had seen chasing Valerie earlier; he was much more human, more real-looking. It was like the other ghost had been a projection. Meanwhile, Phantom looked solid and tangible.

He looked human.

Barry searched his face for something, _anything_ that indicated malicious intent. It just wasn't there. The kid was like, what, fifteen? How could anybody consider him evil?

Phantom gasped loudly, causing Barry to start. When he looked at Phantom, though, his eyes were on the opposite side of the feel and slightly up rather than on him. Faintly, he could see a green glow like an airplane getting closer to the ground.

Phantom stood. Curiously, Barry watched the ghost slightly favor his right leg: the one that had been shot. That was another thing that didn't add up. Ghosts were made of ectoplasm and nothing else, so they weren't able to feel pain. Moreso, ectoplasm had the ability to mold to the ghost's wishes. Even if Phantom had been hurt, he could've rearranged his "skin" to heal it. At least, that's what he had read.

Phantom had hardly floated off the branch when a bright green laser-like beam shot past his shoulders, burning the grass behind him. The green dot from earlier was close enough now to have a defined shape. A bit of silver reflected off the green glow it emitted.

Phantom groaned. "Can't a guy catch a break?" he muttered. Then, louder, he said, "Hey, Skulker, could we reschedule this? I'm not in the mood right now."

Another blast, this one thicker in diameter, raced towards Phantom's floating figure. A green dome surrounded him and the blast glanced off the shield. Phantom, however, was still blasted onto the ground.

Barry had the vague thought that he should leave. Once again, he was left without the protection of his suit. He really needed to start carrying that around.

"Why does nobody want to exchange friendly banter with me anymore?" Phantom said as his shield dissolved. "I mean, honestly, where's the fun in that?"

The ghost, Skulker, still didn't respond. He clicked a button on his arm (was he a ghost robot?) and a net shot out. For half a second, Phantom lost his "solid" quality and became a little translucent. The net passed harmlessly through.

Phantom stared at the net for a long time before he looked back at Skulker. He seemed confused. "Skulker?" he asked tentatively. "Hey buddy, you in there? You know that net only works on low level ghosts."

Once again, Skulker continued walking forward without reply. When Phantom was within striking distance, he brought his fist back and threw it forward with incredible force. Phantom pulled up another green shield, but it dissolved upon contact. Phantom was pushed onto the ground.

"Okay, okay, you got me," Phantom said, raising his hands in surrender. "Oh no, the mighty ghost hunter has finally caught me! Whatever will I do?"

Skulker stared blankly down at Phantom.

"Seriously?" Phantom said. "Nothing?" With a single movement, he used his foot to trip Skulker, who fell to the ground with a large _thump._ When Phantom stood again, he hissed and kicked the leg he'd used to knock Skulker down: the injured one.

After that, Barry couldn't see what was happening. He was lower than the two, so he only caught that Phantom had kicked off the robot's face mask and immediately looked bewildered. Phantom then reached down and wrapped his fingers around the chestplate, which he promptly ripped off. Looking even more confused (if that was possible), he ripped out a handful of still-sparking wires and dropped them to the ground.

"Huh," Phantom said.

"What?" Barry mouthed, eyebrows furrowing.

Phantom took to the skies faster than Barry could blink.


End file.
